


One More Chance

by bye_bye_firefly



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alexis | Quackity Angst, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Arguing, But they are implied, Character Death, Childhood Memories, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Dead Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Dead Wilbur Soot, Emotional Hurt, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everything Hurts, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), False Memories, Family Angst, Family Dynamics, Family Issues, Five Stages of Grief, Gaslighting, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, I'm here to make you cry, Major Character Injury, Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, Nightmares, Permanent Injury, Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Secrets, Suicidal Thoughts, Toby Smith | Tubbo Deserves Better, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit is Not Okay (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Wilbur Soot, not solidified at this moment, phil is just trying to be a good dad and nobody will let him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27755299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bye_bye_firefly/pseuds/bye_bye_firefly
Summary: Life after death is a little weird, topsy-turvy, and a bit spotty. Everyone says you were a bad guy for a little bit- or their whole life- and you don't even remember why that is! Wilbur knows it better than anyone, but despite it all, he's gonna try to live after death. He's gonna live his best dead life!Tommy, in the land of the living, is doing his very best to live without his brother, but it doesn't help when he suddenly becomes a ghost and confuses things. Honestly, everyone is confused. You'd think it'd be as simple as having him back and being happy, but that's not it at all. Suddenly, Tommy's angry, and Fundy's upset, and everyone's lost, and...How does Wilbur make things better? How do you right wrongs? And where the hell is Technoblade?
Comments: 27
Kudos: 107





	1. Chapter 1

He remembered gazing at the button and being so ready to press it, the palm of his hand just over it. He wasn't sweating; he remembered that much. He turned and there was someone there, and the way they were looking at him...they said something. It was strange not being able to remember what they said, but knowing they said something. He said something back. He took his hand off the button...

He didn't remember.

"Have you heard...the song? On the walls? Have you heard the song?"

"And you want to blow it all up?"

"Y-Yeah, I do..."

"There is a lot of TNT potentially connected to that button."

"It was never meant to be."

And then there was time and there was nothing left, absolute decimation- he didn't know who did it, he didn't understand what was going on when he looked back on it, but he just remembered the moments afterwards. He said something to Phil- how the hell did he get there?- and his dad looked at him- he didn't remember how he looked- and he breathed- he had a sword in his hands, but he didn't remember him ever picking it up- and then it was over.

He remembered whispering a soft, "Thank you," in his ear, his heart slowing down as he bled out, and then he slumped over and fell onto the floor. He thought it was over. It took hours for him to realise that it wasn't over, that he was sitting in a room with black velvet curtains. From there, he fought for the ability to stay conscious, then to sit up and feel and open his eyes. He quietly stood, looking at the curtains. Maybe this was his second life. 

The thought of Fundy being alone with no one to raise him, his younger brother stranded, Technoblade off doing...god knows what without any supervision- he had decided it. It was for Fundy, for his family, for his friends and country. He walked to the curtains and pulled them away, light flooding the room as they fell to the floor.

"Tommy-"

"No, don't talk to me! I'm not fucking hearing it!" Tommy dashed into the forest nearby, Phil following close behind.

"Tommy, this isn't helping anyone."

"I don't care!" he screamed back at him. Once he reached a tree, he grabbed onto it and panted in place, taking a moment to look at the bark and kick it. It didn't do much.

"Listen, I know that you're angry," Phil said, "because I'm angry, too, but this is no way to act."

"You don't know what he did to us!"

"I get the gist of it."

"The gist isn't enough!"

"I know-"

"You _don't_ know!"

He had only been there for the aftermath, never what was actually going on. In his heart, there was a bit of him that felt so much scorn for him that he couldn't stand the sight of him. He hated Wilbur for doing this shit and he hated Phil for killing Wilbur- for Wilbur wanting to drag everyone down with him. Open palms turned into fists and he threw a punch at Phil, but it didn't land. Phil grabbed his wrist before it could connect.

"I hate you!" He tried to pull his wrist away from his grip, but it just got tighter.

"You don't mean it."

_"I do!"_

Phil's stupid frown made it feel like he was pitying him and he didn't need pity. Then again, he didn't know what he needed. He just knew he hated how Phil was looking at him, how he was acting with him.

He looked at him with that same sorrowful stare, Tommy's chest getting tighter as time passed. "Why are you looking at me like that?!" It felt like there was a fire in the centre of his chest that was tearing through his lungs. "You act so upset, but you weren't even here! Where were you?! Where were you when we _needed_ you?!" He was like a chimney with all the smoke he was expelling and the fire that was ripping through him.

"I couldn't be here, Tommy! I wanted to be here, believe me, but I couldn't!" Phil's face was pained with grief and regret. "If there was a way for me to get here sooner, I would have been here, but that wasn't an option. That was the earliest time for me to come to L'Manberg, Tommy, and I thought I could do more-"

"Oh, you did _more,"_ Tommy said. "Wilbur is dead because of you."

"He was going to die whether I killed him or not."

"That's not true!" He pulled a little more from him, using his other hand to help with his efforts.

"It is!"

Tommy finally yanked himself away and spun when he abruptly let go. He slipped to his knees but still forced himself up and went back to running through the forest. Enough of this shit.

It wasn't clear how long he ran, but by the time the moon was in the heart of the sky, he was lost. With no need to run, he marched through the forest, his face resting in a soft frown. Keeping his gaze focused in front of him, he sighed and let his mind stop fuming over how much he hated everyone. It got quiet for once. There was nothing to think about anymore. He could wander around until he finally worked up the nerve to go back to L'Manberg.

Then, he suddenly plunged into a hole and crashed into hard stone, making him grunt and lay still, staring up at the sky through the hole in the ground. It was freezing down here. Sitting up, he looked around with a hand nursing a bruise on the back of his head. He stopped wincing and whining when he saw a familiar robe. Standing in the middle of the room was Technoblade, who he could guess hadn't moved in a while. "Techno?"

He looked back at Tommy and glared. "Tommy, get out of here."

"I didn't mean to come here," he said, hurriedly getting to his feet. "I just fell in."

"I don't care. Leave." He moved to an ender chest in the corner of the room and stuffed it full of all kinds of valuables like emerald and diamond blocks, a single nether star. "Coming out here to look for me was stupid."

"I didn't come here to look for you." He smiled at a thought and said, "You're being a little clingy; you're reminding me of-"

"Tommy, I'm an enemy of the state."

Oh. That changed things. "What?"

"Tubbo- you know, the president of your country- has put a hit on my head because of the whole wither thing. I'm wanted, dead or alive." He sighed and turned to him with an almost sad look, but it was mostly angry. "Fundy sent the message well enough when he killed my cows. I don't have a life here- not anymore. I figured you'd know since you're the VP."

"Wh- No, you- Okay, you did _really_ bad shit, but- You could swear loyalty, Techno!"

"Loyalty?" Laughing, he shook his head as he picked up the chest. "I'm not swearing loyalty to a government I don't believe in, Tommy. Tell Wilbur that I said hi, alright? Say, ah...it was fun, but I'm leaving. I'm going somewhere way out, so don't go looking for me- none of you." He finished his talk with a more irritated, "And get him the help he needs, Tommy."

He stared at him for a moment, instantly realising that he didn't know that Wilbur was dead. "Um..." What was the point in telling him? Like he said, there was no point in searching for him past this point. He was going to be gone, as much as it hurt to know that. If he was never coming back, he wouldn't know either way. This was their last interaction. "You don't have to go-"

"I do."

His breathing was getting faster and his eyes were darting everywhere as if the room held the secret to keep his oldest brother around. "No, you really don't- We can sort this out!"

"There's no sorting anything out."

"I can help!"

"Tommy, not to be mean, but you're _remarkably_ far from diplomatic."

"Let me try!" He felt a tear run down his cheek and his bottom lip tremble. Out of embarrassment, he covered his mouth with one hand and used the other to clean his face. "We can try, can't we?"

Technoblade frowned and bent to hug him, squeezing him close. "This is it, Tommy. End of the line for good ol' Technoblade." When he whimpered and sobbed into his shoulder, he squeezed Tommy a little tighter. "You're making this a bigger thing than it needs to be..." He knew that was a lie, but anything to make this easier for both of them. "Stay strong, woodpecker."

"Oh, you've ruined it," he whispered with a slight laugh, "you ruined it by calling me that stupid name."

"Would you rather me call you a fool?"

"No..."

"Woodpecker it is, then."

They both laughed in each other's ears, but it took a long time for Tommy to let go, so Technoblade stood still for him, letting him grip onto his robes as he rubbed his back and ruffled his hair. It was the middle of the night and, though he rarely slept during this time, he was ready to start his trek out into the wilderness so he could finally get some rest when he made it to his final destination. Tommy seemed to need him more than he needed sleep, though, so there he stayed.

Tommy slowly drew from him, his face covered in tears and his mouth turned in a dreadful frown, and sniffled as he looked at Technoblade. Through hesitation, he asked, "You'll be back one day, right?"

"I make no guarantees." He smiled gloomily as he said it, but he was so resolute that he began climbing the ladder out of the hole before anything else could be said. Tommy watched as he left, as the moon disappeared behind him then suddenly came back into view. Tommy seemed to be in shock and remained still until he realised there was a reason for him to follow him.

So he did. He climbed out of the hole and called, "Wait, Techno!"

He turned as he held the halters for his horse with a cocked eyebrow. At his feet, Carl's armour laid and seemed like it was about to be packed into his ender chest. Tommy could only guess he was taking it off so he could avoid being seen. That diamond armour _was_ quite shiny, glistening even in the darkness because of the moon. "What?"

"Ah, um..." He shuffled closer and glanced up at Technoblade. His eyes scanned his face for some sign of what he could say that could make it better, that could make him memorable, just a scrap of a good memory from today for him to hold onto whenever he got lonely- if he ever got lonely- but he didn't have anything to say. For whatever reason, the words left him, so he stood dumbly in front of him.

Technoblade smiled at him and walked over, leading Carl beside him, and pat his head. "It's alright, Tommy."

"It's not."

"Even if it wasn't, it'll be alright someday." He hopped onto his horse and did a little circle around Tommy, giving him the softest grin he could muster. "We'll meet again."

A pang in his heart suddenly made him burst into tears and Technoblade couldn't help but frown at the sight of it. "I don't want you to go! It doesn't have to be like this- We could team up a-and we could get my discs back and say fuck everything! We could be a team, like old times! Don't you want that?!" He sobbed and grabbed onto his robe, pressing his face into his side and mumbling, "Don't go away, Techno..."

"I don't have a choice." With a tender shove, he got Tommy off of him and stroked his forehead comfortingly with his thumb. "I don't have a choice," he repeated.

There was nothing left to say on his end, so he backed up and whimpered as he wiped his face clean of salty tears. "I'll miss you."

"Me, too." He turned to ride off into the distance but didn't make Carl start running yet. Seizing the reins, he peered back at Tommy one last time and said, "Tommy..." But his name was carried off in the wind. It was like he had been put on pause, but his eyes were obviously seeking a way to say what he wanted to. He was usually so articulate and blunt, but this time, he wanted the right words. There probably weren't any words that would make what he was about to say right. That's at least what Tommy thought.

"Just say it," Tommy ordered.

He sucked in the corner of his mouth and hummed in thought. "Don't..."

"What?" Stepping towards him, his shoulders tensed up and his face showed signs of anger. "Techno, I don't care anymore. You're leaving, right? Just say it, then; it's not like I'll get after you later!"

_"Don't let yourself become Theseus."_

After a quick spin, he started sprinting off into the distance on his horse. Tommy's face twisted in confusion, unsure of what he was telling him, and he yelled through a cold wind, "What do you mean?!"

He didn't get an answer, and soon enough, Technoblade was gone, leaving nothing in his wake. Tommy watched him go until he couldn't see him anymore, and even then he stood listlessly in the clearing. As his heart relaxed from the rush of emotions, he looked around the plains for some sign of what he meant, but there was none. Every time he looked around, really, there was nothing to tell him what anything meant.

Just like that, the moon rested in a corner of the dark sky and both of Tommy's older brothers were gone.


	2. Chapter 2

When Wilbur opened his eyes again, he was sat on his knees behind Technoblade, hands full of pink hair. Whenever he moved his long fingers around his floppy, pig-ears, gathering more hair into the bundle, the base of his ears would twitch and the landscape would shift. He would chuckle under his breath every time, working with each thick lock and making it more manageable.

He remembered the feeling of the comb held in his mouth, the way he would sometimes take it to work through a knot. "You should cut your hair short like me. I don't have to deal with this, you know."

"You remind me every time you braid my hair, Wilbur," he reminded him, "and every time, I tell you that it would be more of a hassle for me to chop this off than to live with it."

"Not if you buzzed it off."

"You want me to buzz it off?"

"Well, no, but it was a suggestion."

He laughed and wiped his face as he said, "You know, Wilbur, you have just...the strangest suggestions for everyone. It ranges from 'cut all your hair off because that will make it easier to tame' to 'you should definitely eat sand' and honestly, I don't know which suggestion is worse."

And, the dirty crime boy he was, he replied, "Well, Techno, I think it's a noble sacrifice, your tooth enamel. You like sacrifices."

"I like blood," he corrected.

Brushing his hair, he chuckled under his breath and quickly braided it. Quietly, he said, "I've been getting so good at braiding because of you."

"You could make obscene amounts of money braiding hair if you really wanted to."

"I could make obscene amounts of money chopping off your hair and selling it on the street."

"We know which situation will keep you alive longer."

He smiled but knew he meant part of that. Maybe being dead was okay because he could relive all the good memories he had. It was so weird; everything was so good. A little bit of time spent remembering the highlights wasn't so bad, right? Surely not. He could rip the satin curtains away later. For now, he wanted to braid Technoblade's pink hair for him the way he remembered it going. He could stay dead for a little longer.

There were pops of lava and bright oranges; his vision was entirely engulfed by them. It wasn't loud. It just hurt. He was thrashing around and calling for someone to help him, to get him out, but no one came. Why did no one come? Where were his friends? Why the hell was he just stuck here?! It hurt so fucking bad! Just as fast as he started panicking, a peace came over him. That was when it hit him: he was entirely alone.

"Tommy!"

He sat up with a start, his entire body shivering in a cold sweat. Breathing quickly, he looked around the room and swallowed before staring up at Tubbo. "Wh-What time is it?"

"Does it matter? Tommy, are you okay?" Tubbo's eyes were lined with worry and stress for his friend, his gaze scanning him for any injuries. "God, you're so pale! What happened? Do you need anything?"

"I-I just had a nightmare- and I don't need anything, Tubbo; I...I'm fine." He took a deep breath and wiped the sweat off his brow, sighing in relief.

"You don't need water? Nothing?"

"Nothing," he confirmed. "Uh...What time is it?"

"I don't know the exact time, but it's a little early," he said. "An hour before _you_ wake up normally, I'd say."

He groaned and laid back, pressing his palms against his eyes. "Did I wake you up? Is that why you're here right now?"

"You were, you know...yelling."

With his arms crossed against his chest, he looked up at Tubbo and asked, "About what?"

"Just yelling. Nothing coherent, nothing I understood, just _yelling._ You sounded pissed."

"More than usual?"

"More than usual, big man." Tubbo took a deep breath and said, "I look across the room and you've managed to kick your blankets off the bed, you've got your pillow barely behind your head, and you're yelling a-and throwing yourself around in the bed, just..." In this light, it seemed like Tubbo had aged a thousand years in the span of a few minutes. "Tommy, what did you dream about? Is everything okay? Do you want to talk?"

He thought about it and closed his eyes, remembering everything about it- how his skin burned against the bright orange, the anger he felt that tightened his chest, and the fear of burning. "I-I'm pretty sure I was in lava?"

Tubbo bent down to his level in the bed, concern still painted across his face. "Why lava?"

"I don't know- I was alone and everything hurt. I was calling for people to come and get me, but no one came. I was alone." He turned his head to look at him. Tubbo was good for asking him to talk about it; it really did help him calm down. "I don't know. I don't know why it was like that. I know you'd save me, Tubbo, but that was my dream."

"Good, because I _would_ save you. We're best friends, man! We've been together since the beginning!"

"Mostly 'cause you're so clingy," he teased.

"I'm not the one who calls when I'm alone."

"I do not do that!"

"You totally do!"

"When?"

"Literally all the time!"

"It's not 'literally all the time' if I didn't do it yesterday!"

"You don't have to do it every day for it to be literally all the time!"

"You are so delusional, Tubbo; you are making up absolutely everything and believing yourself-"

"Oh, _I'm_ delusional, now!"

"Yes, you are!"

"Hey, Techno?"

Technoblade looked up from his journal, scrawling what he needed to get done that day into the pages. "What is it, Phil?"

"Are you okay?" Phil's face was troubled, his eyes tracing Technoblade's frame. He was sad and anxious and he had been since he started helping with the move from his underground base to the middle of nowhere. Technoblade always seemed to be hiding something from him, but he could never confirm that if he didn't ask. It was wrong to think that of his sons, but everyone had something to hide, especially nowadays in the aftermath of Wilbur.

"Why wouldn't I be okay?" He didn't seem to get the question, turning to look at him with a tilted head and the same blank expression. Closing his journal, he tucked his pencil behind his ear and faced Phil, waiting for an answer that would make sense to him. Phil just wasn't sure if he could give an answer that made sense to him.

"It's just...everything that's happened in the past few days."

"Oh," he said, "that's fine. I mean, the cuts I got from the wither are better now. I never realised how much damage someone could take from withering away, but...that's probably why they call it the wither." He shrugged nonchalantly and said, "Besides, I don't think it matters all that much. I did my bit of damage. A country won't thrive there; it's a crater in the ground." He turned to walk away, but Phil stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder.

"No, Techno, I'm not worried about that."

Now he was visibly confused. "Well, if you're worried about Wilbur, I am, too. I told Tommy before I left to get him some help- I think. I meant to, at least."

His heart sank. "Techno..."

"What? I figure he was manic that whole revolution. Blowing up L'Manberg was part of his plan the whole time. He was traitorous to his country- and you called _me_ the traitor." He laughed, trying to let Phil know he was just teasing him. Technoblade wasn't mad about the fact that he said he was the traitor; he could see how everyone could gather that much. Pride should be swallowed to see reality. "Wilbur's my brother, you know? I worry for him, even if he's done some bad stuff recently."

Phil didn't know how to tell him. Maybe he was too caught up in his plans, maybe he was too caught up in his speech, maybe it was the mess of the situation- maybe it was everything. There were so many things that could have seemed more important than whatever Phil was doing. He'd never seen Technoblade angrier that day and to see all of that anger directed at Tommy- vocalised to Tommy- was terrible.

Phil thought it was because he blamed him. No, it was all because of the government. He didn't even know.

"Techno, um..." He looked at his son, studying his appearance because he had a feeling that once he told the truth, he wasn't going to be able to see him ever again. That pink hair that used to be so long was now cut to his shoulders, something that happened because of a fight between him and Dream. A heavy coat and cloak covered his shoulders, their clothing showing their bond. "Please, sit down for a second."

"Phil, what happened?" It didn't sound like a question and he didn't move, his face getting tenser as time passed. "Phil?"

"I killed him."

His eyes widened suddenly. "Wilbur...?"

"I killed Wilbur because he asked me to. He hit the button and he destroyed everything a-and he begged me to- he put a sword in my hands and he asked me to." Phil's shoulders shook as he remembered that day, swallowing down the acidic fear that was flooding his throat. "I didn't know what else to do. I didn't know if I should leave him, i-if I should- I didn't even have time to stop him! I got there as soon as I possibly could!"

He just stood there, his mouth opened slightly. A cold wind blew his hair around but he did not react. There was no time to waste reacting to what he was saying to him. The first step was trying to understand that Wilbur was gone. Tommy had lied to him about Wilbur's death. Why? What was the reason for this?! It had been a week since Wilbur blew up L'Manberg, apparently a week since his death, and he had no clue. He thought he was alive. How could he trick him like that?

"I wanted to save him, Techno, I really did, but I didn't know what to do!"

"Phil, I won't let you die."

He blinked a few times and, dumbfounded, asked, "What?"

"I want to make you a promise."

"Techno, you-"

"I'm going to keep you alive. Even if it kills me, I'm going to keep you alive."

Phil's face twisted in anger and sternness as he said, "Techno, I'm not allowing that. I have my one life and you have your three. Keep yourself alive."

"Not if it means you leave me, too, Phil." Technoblade walked into his house, Phil following close behind. "I'm not arguing about it." They headed up the ladder into the second floor as they argued.

"No, you don't get it. I'm not letting that happen. If I have to die, I have to die."

"You're saying stupid things-"

"You're killing yourself and saying it's a promise! Techno, someday, I'll have to die! I'll have to die and that will be that and I'll be gone! There is nothing we can do to stop that from happening! It's destiny!"

"I, too, have a destiny!" Technoblade's stare felt like a sword was being threaded through Phil's body. Once again, there was that anger in his eyes but it was directed at him this time around. He swallowed and looked away, the tenseness of anger leaving his face. "If I have to lose all my lives to protect you, then I will. There is nothing you can do to stop me from doing that."

Phil didn't argue.

They finished getting the rest of his stuff into his new home and decided to relax, taking off their heavy coats and sitting around the fireplace. "It's cold out there," Phil commented, "and it's really no place anyone should live. Are you sure you want to stay out here?"

"Completely," he said. "Sure, I won't be able to make a proper farm or anything, but I'm sure it'll be fine." With a soft hum, he curled one leg to rest his head on top of. "Phil, I have something to give you."

"I promise you, I don't need any weapons. I've gotten pretty beefy on my own."

"It's not about that," he said as he dug through his pockets. "I was thinking about giving you this for a while, but I didn't know when to give it to you. Time never felt right, but I don't think there's a better time than now." Pulling his hands out, sitting in his palm was a compass and an emerald necklace held together by rope. Phil held both objects softly in his hands, turning them over to get a good look at them. As he did so, the red needle bounced around behind the glass and the emerald glinted, seeming to ting slightly in his ear.

"Aw, mate..."

Technoblade smiled, knowing he'd like it before he even gifted it. "That compass points towards me at all times. If you ever need me, you know where to find me. When the emerald stops shining, you'll know I'm dead."

"It's a morbid gift."

"A gift nonetheless."

Phil smiled and hung the emerald around his neck, packing the compass away in his pocket. "Thank you, Techno. I don't know if I can do anything in return, but I'll figure something out."

"There's no need for that," he said. "It's yours. Think of it like...a favour! Just take it, okay? I'd just want to give you more if you decided to give stuff in return."

"Aw, mate, you really don't have to give anything more to me..."

"That's not true." He turned towards him with a soft smile, which only made Phil give one of his glowing smiles back. "You've been an amazing father and friend to me. I've got a family because of you. You deserve more than I can give. For you, Phil, the world." Panic set in his face when Phil teared up, making him reach over and try to console him with a frantic, "It's okay!"

When Phil left the house, Technoblade watched him leave from the porch. It was a slow disappearance with the wind and snow, but he trekked through the brunt of it and he was gone in a matter of minutes. Once out of his sight, he went back inside and sighed. The mirror nearby revealed his worn face, the wind tousled pink hair on his head, his pig ears that were still twitching because of the cold. He stared at himself for a few moments.

He took off his coat, hung it up, and stuffed one glove in the right pocket. He stared at his left hand, still contained in its glove. He carefully slipped it off, revealing the damage sustained from creating and enduring the wither. Just under the thick fabric, his marred arm laid quiet, unbeknownst to Phil. He laughed to himself as he thought about how Phil would probably freak out if he saw the wounds. Whatever; that was what gloves were for. 

What was left of his left hand and forearm was dense, black bone and pieces of muscle that appeared more like burnt pork. As you went up, the damage was less and less, but the hand was a terrible sight to see. He could hardly bend his fingers because the joints and cartilage had either been withered away or joined as one, working as a cement. Gently, he pulled on each bone to stretch it as best he could, but the pain was intolerable. He still didn't know why he did this. The outcome was always the same.

Moving slowly, he pulled on the index finger, which creaked and groaned as it moved, but once he bent it in too much, a shot of pain went through his arm and he doubled over, falling to the ground. The pain blinded him, beat him to the ground and forced him to stay. He called for Phil but only out of the comfort that came with hearing the name. He knew Phil wasn't around to hear his calls. As his vision came back and the pain left him, he pushed himself back to his feet and refused to repeat the process this time.

Maybe it was better to keep the gloves on.


	3. Chapter 3

_"Ay-ay!"_ Tubbo yelled.

And the crowd yelled back, _"Ay-ay!"_

A messy funeral, yes, but a funeral nonetheless. No one had nice things to say. Everything said about Schlatt ranged from, "He was a pretty bad guy," to, "I hope he burns in hell." Tubbo spoke on the feeling of dying and coming back to life, something some people in the crowd had no experience with. It was hard, but Tommy encouraged him during the whole thing by nodding along with those sad eyes of his. They closed the casket and quickly put him into the tomb. 

Quackity stepped in front of the opening and said, "Before we do anything else, let me make one thing clear: you can rob the _shit_ out of this grave!"

"Ay-ay!" the crowd yelled back.

When the afterparty started, Tubbo immediately ducked to a spot under some shade with a soda in hand. His head turned to the moon, his eyes watching as it sat in the night sky. Tonight was kind of weird, wasn't it? This was meant to be a funeral and all the funerals he'd seen in movies were sad. People were supposed to cry. If a man was bad, no one showed up to his funeral. Today, everyone showed up to Schlatt's funeral, but they left their thoughts filled with hatred in his tomb. They spat on his coffin.

And the first president of the country...he died in disgrace, didn't he? Was that why they didn't have a funeral for him? But if that was true, why have a funeral for Schlatt?

"Oi, Tubbo."

He spun around and saw Tommy standing there. They both waved at each other and Tommy came to his side, looking at the moon in the water instead of at the sky. "What's up, Tommy?"

"Just worried about you. Were you okay with that talk earlier? About the execution, that is."

With a soft sigh, he said, "It was hard, but I'm glad I talked about it." He gently touched the scar on his face from the firework that killed him and cleared his throat. "I mean, dying is hard. I guess talking about it would be equally as hard."

"Wilbur always said the opposite. He said dying was easy."

"Well, I don't think he's ever had to sit so long knowing he was going to die."

"You didn't know you were going to die," Tommy said.

"No, I did." Tubbo rubbed the back of his neck and smiled at him. "I thought Techno was going to kill me- and he did." He laughed, but the sigh he let out after told Tommy enough.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, Tubbo."

"I don't know if I want to or if I don't."

"It might mean you don't." He stood up straight and faced him, leaning against the railing for a moment. "Listen, Tubbo, I...I think you deserve some condolences."

"What?" He smiled at him, suspecting this was a bit, but stopped smiling when Tommy took his free hand and squeezed it tightly. "Tommy-"

"Tubbo, you didn't deserve what happened to you that day. I fucked up."

"What? You didn't do anything. You didn't know-"

"But I should have! I should have and-and I didn't and that's my fault! Tubbo, I'm...I'm-"

There was then a series of howls from the tomb nearby, making them both look towards it. Right at the grave, Quackity was clawing at the bricks on his knees, screaming incoherently into the stone. In sync, Tommy and Tubbo let out an exasperated, "What the fuck?"

 _"Come out, you piece of shit!"_ Quackity screamed into the wall as he punched his hand into it. A couple of people from the party were coming to his side now, namely Puffy and Bad, but he didn't seem to react when they tried to pull him off the walls. Tubbo and Tommy put their drinks down and ran to the tomb, hopping a fence to get there faster. Tommy was the first one to pull Quackity off the grave and Tubbo came to talk to him, but he wasn't interested in talking. _"Schlatt, you asshole!"_

Puffy's first question was, "Is he drunk?"

Bad said, "I-I don't know- Quackity, are you alright?"

Quackity screamed one more time before stopping and breaking into sobs on the ground. Tubbo looked around, noticing the rest of the attendees joining to stare at him, and yelled at everyone, "Alright, it's time to go everyone! Continue the party if you want, but it's time for us to head off on our own!"

Tommy nodded and shouted, "And if you don't leave, then we'll stab the shit out of you!"

"Language," Bad mumbled. "A-And no one is going to stab anyone. You're all fine."

Tommy didn't get the chance to say what he wanted to say and he couldn't even get a moment to talk to him after. Tubbo picked Quackity off the path and helped him into his home. "Give him some space," was the last thing he said to him before going their separate ways. Tommy tried to convince him not to leave, but he was too late; he didn't even hear him asking if they could talk before he took care of Quackity. What a terrible way to end the night.

It was a nice afternoon, but that didn't mean anything to Tommy. He was still inside, finally out of bed after a sleepless night. Sitting by the window, he watched as the wind shook the trees on the horizon and, with a bored look on his face, thought about Schlatt and Wilbur, but mostly Wilbur. He'd brought him up before with Tubbo, but the conversations never went anywhere and when he tried to talk about him with other people, they didn't say much. No one wanted to talk about him.

His death didn't make any sense. Tommy remembered being there that day, watching Technoblade make his first move and try to kill people trapped in the crowd, targeting Tubbo because he was the new president of L'Manberg. He was running towards him when the ground shook below his feet and then disappeared in an instant. He was lucky to make it out of there alive, but with that extra time, Technoblade brought out the skulls and built the bodies for the withers. He made his stupid speech.

He still remembered it word for word. He couldn't stop thinking about it lately, so it was cemented in his mind. That stupid Greek story that made him think he sounded so smart, that stupid twist at the end where the hero was exiled, the stupid way he told him to die like a hero...

He didn't want to, but he hated him. Sometimes, he would think about what Technoblade said to him before he left and he just felt so much hatred fill his chest. Even now, he was boiling over it. Why even bother being nice to him if that was how he treated him? Up and leaving, telling him to never search for him, pretty much acting like he didn't have any feelings, like they weren't related, like he would be better off not knowing him anymore.

More than anything, he hated himself for letting him leave. It was strange, though; he didn't know if he wanted to stop him from leaving so that he could turn him in or so he could keep him around as his brother. His final brother. He hated himself for missing him and he hated himself for considering him his brother and he hated Phil for leaving in secret to speak to him. Oh, he tried to keep that shit under wraps, but Tommy knew. He watched him leave every day with an extra coat, important things. Yes, head off to the brother who destroyed the country you live in, but the youngest? Fuck him.

That was it. He stood up and grabbed his shit off the floor, walking out of his room and marching down the stairs to the outside. He knew just the place to go.

So, he marched through L'Manberg and found a forest far away, needing the space from the city to be able to do what he was about to do. With a swift movement, his axe found its way into his rough palms and he started swinging at the tree wildly while yelling. Not even he was sure what he was yelling. It was just bitter, confused, loud shouting. When his axe got stuck in the tree, he switched to his sword and started swinging it into the tree instead.

Gradually, the swings stalled into gentle taps against the tree and he dropped to his knees, panting and tearing up. He hated Wilbur for doing what he did, too. For sending him into a war as a kid, for scaring him during their time in Pogtopia, for all the sleepless nights he caused then and now, for blowing up L'Manberg, for making Phil take his last life. He fucking hated him, but he missed him. Oh, he missed him so much. His guitar at night, the way he used to sing to him like he would when he was really little, the encouragement he gave.

He stared at the sword in his hands. The edge was so sharp even after that round against a tree. Bits of gold glinted in the sun above him, contrasting the nearly black blade. He wondered if Wilbur had the same epiphany as he had when he stared at the sword in his sheath before passing it to Phil. The swords they had were overpowered. They were a two-hit kill- one with no armour on. He toyed with the leather hold, his eyes tracing its frame.

"Tommy?"

He raised his head and gazed back to see Dream, scowling at him. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to check on you. You sounded angry and I was coming over to chop some trees down." Dream came to his side and tugged his axe out of the trunk of the tree, handing it back to him. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He put his sword and axe away as he stood up and wiped his hands over his face. "I'm fine."

"You didn't sound fine," he commented as he began chopping down the tree.

"Well, I am."

"What got you so angry?"

He groaned and said, "Listen, if you're trying to get me to talk, it's not going to work. I don't want to."

"Well, that's fine," he said. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's perfectly fine. How did the funeral go last night?"

"Oh, it's funny you mention that," he laughed out, "because not one person had anything nice to say about Schlatt."

Dream chuckled, "Really?" as he moved onto the next tree.

"Really! Big Q ate his heart, I stole his bones with Tubbo, we pissed on his grave- it was a great funeral."

Dream laughed and shook his head with a smile on his face. Tommy could see it from the side as he walked by him, which made him happy. Being with Dream made him feel safer; he wasn't sure if it was because he was loaded or if it was because he was finally with someone who cared about what he was saying, but he felt safe. It was a breath of fresh air after everything he went through with Wilbur.

"Well, I'm glad you had a good time, Tommy."

"It wasn't a long funeral, so that was a plus, too. Short and sweet."

"Mm-hm." He paused and asked, "What happened with Quackity? I saw bandages on his hands today, but I didn't get the chance to ask him about it."

"Oh, Quackity, he..." Tommy's shoulders were tensed just remembering it. Last night was kind of scary, actually. "He started screaming and clawing at the tomb. Tubbo left for a little bit with him, but I didn't know it was because of that. Was it all around his knuckles or his fingers?"

"Both, actually," he answered. "It was weird. I didn't know it was because of that."

"Yeah, well," he said, "I didn't know he was even hurt."

Dream suddenly perked his head up as if he remembered something and asked, "Before I forget, where is Techno? I haven't seen him in a while; did you catch him?"

"We don't have a clue where he is," Tommy said. "I haven't seen that dickhead."

"Oh, so he left without getting into a fight with anyone?"

Tommy shook his head and watched as he cut down another tree. "I don't want to talk about Techno anymore. Where the hell are my discs, Dream?"

He didn't have an answer for him, so he chuckled and said, "Tommy, we already talked about this. You traded your discs away during the war. You're not getting them back."

"Well, hypothetically, if I were to steal them back- which I would never do, Dream, so I find it very rude you would even think that- where would I have to go?"

"Why don't you find that out yourself?"

"Why don't you just tell me, dickhead?"

"You really like that word, huh? 'Dickhead?'"

Tommy growled and yelled, "Tell me where my fuckin' discs are!"

"Tommy," he calmly said, "you keep forgetting that they're not _your_ discs. You gave them to _me."_

Before he could come up with something else to say, Dream walked off into the distance and waved goodbye without looking back. Despite the argument that ended the interaction, Dream...listened to him. That was his main takeaway; Dream listened to him and he listened to him not because he had to or because someone told him that it would be a good idea. He did it of his own accord. This little rivalry, war, battle- whatever it was...maybe it wouldn't last that long.

That's when a plan hatched in Tommy's head. It was such an amazing plan that he could hardly believe he came up with it himself. It had to be foolproof! The more he thought about it, the giddier he got, and the giddier he got, the more excited he was to put it into action. Oh, Wilbur would be so proud, and maybe Technoblade would be happy with him, and Phil would be behind it, too! Yes, everyone would love it! He would be the envy of the gods above!

The plan was simple: trick Dream into becoming his friend and use him to get his discs back.


	4. Chapter 4

Quackity would often wake up early in the morning to watch Tubbo give his speeches to the masses below his house. He did this every morning and every morning, Quackity would sit on his windowsill to listen from afar. Today, as he massaged his bloody fingers, he studied the crowd and their changing faces. The white cloth that wrapped his fingers and knuckles made light noises under his grasp as they moved and pressed against one another. He was only half-aware that he was causing his scabs to come loose and the wounds to open again.

Tubbo spoke of the past and the bright future that he was planning on leading L'Manberg, completely ignoring the fact that he was speaking just as Schlatt did, just with a different tone and different wording. Somehow, his charms worked on the crowd. They barely recognized how tightly he was holding the podium, grip firm as if he would be plucked from the lowly ground by the gods, reclaimed. Reclaimed, if there was anything to reclaim in the first place. The word implied Tubbo was like a god at one point or another. Maybe the crowd thought he might be a god.

And who could blame them? After all they went through, between him and Schlatt holding the horns of the country, they had the right to consider Tubbo a god. Hell, at some points, Quackity thought of him as some divine thing, maybe a saint. After everything he'd done for the war effort, Tubbo was more than deserving of his position. Everything he did- the tunnels, the preservation of history, the martyrdom he earned with that execution- sowed seeds of doubt into the citizens. He seemed like he could do no wrong. Seemed.

Even when he was placed into the presidency, which only happened because Tommy was still planning on dragging the disc war into eternity and Wilbur felt he needed to learn to say goodbye, Tubbo put his best friend Tommy into the position of vice president, demoting Quackity from that position to secretary of state. That was _fine._ Considering all he'd done and stood up for, that made sense. If he was in Tubbo's shoes, he'd do the same.

With wondrous eyes, Niki clung to every breath he let out. She held some kind of pride, one of an older sister watching her younger brother move forward in his life. With the clasped hands she had, it looked like she was praying to him, but somehow, the idea was ridiculous. Strong as ever, she held herself just as she did when Schlatt was around but she stood straight as if Tubbo gave her the confidence she needed. Quackity remembered clearly asking, "Can you bake us something, maybe? Like a cake?"

Her reply was cold. "Not for you."

He knew her strength never wavered, not even when Tubbo entered office. She was still wary of him.

And Phil's look of unquestionable certainty enraged him the most. He seemed to hold himself up like he was telling everyone around him that, yes, Tubbo was meant to be president. Phil thought he was so smart, trusting his son, who was a victim of filicide, on his final decision in life. Well, nearly final decision. His arms were crossed against his chest, a slight smile curling onto his face as if he was there for even half of what this country had gone through, as if he knew what went on behind closed doors, _as if._

Quackity couldn't believe they took everything Tubbo said with so much weight like they thought everything he was saying or promising would come true. Tubbo promised a government that wasn't corrupt, but already, he was seeing the cracks. Fundy was the first one to suggest that they do something to keep Dream away from anyone who was in the cabinet. Tubbo disagreed; he believed that no one in the cabinet would disobey his orders of not turning to Dream for anything and everything.

Quackity felt anger build in his chest when he saw Tommy speaking to Dream like they were friends not too long after that discussion.

Regret built up in his throat, but he bit his tongue for the time being. "If I were Tommy." Oh, if only. The things he would do if he was just a step nearer to Tubbo's right ear, was able to speak to him and be listened to, to wrap his hands around his throat and squeeze or maybe bring about an untimely death for the poor little president.

No, that wasn't true. He didn't wish death upon him and he certainly didn't hate him. Tubbo meant well in everything he did; if he didn't listen, it was simply because he didn't think that would lead to the future he envisioned for L'Manberg, and they all wanted something good for L'Manberg and its citizens. Tubbo was just as selfish as he and Fundy were, then. They were no different when it came to the end goal; they just had different ideas for how to get there.

Then the trick was to get Tubbo to work with him, but the issue came again. He wasn't in his ear and he didn't have the respect that he needed to get closer. If he had something- anything- to show for himself, then maybe...

He perked his head up as a thought came to him. Carefully, he lifted himself from the windowsill and shut the curtains tight over the glass to keep unwanted stares from his house. Moving from the curtains to the desk across the way, he mumbled softly to himself the words he would write down. The only thing left to do to solidify the plan was to write it down.

Tubbo was humming to himself, looking around at his country built on stilts. This place was really coming together! Everyone was planning and working hard on their houses. The people who could afford to, or were simply given ways to do so by their friends, built higher into the sky. Why, this looked like a modern city now! Maybe they could make skyscrapers and be able to touch the clouds. "Oh, could you imagine it?" he thought out loud to himself.

"I don't know what to imagine, but I can try imagining it anyway!"

Tubbo jumped and spun around to see...Wilbur...? "Wilbur?"

"Mm-hm!" He came to his side and looked around at L'Manberg, his eyes wide with wonder. His ghostly figure seemed to lag, drifting through the air like a leaf. Maybe a more apt description was like a snowflake because it seemed like if Tubbo reached out to him, his hand would phase right through. He would melt right through his fingers; delicate. "This place looks wonderful, Tubbo! Aw, look at all of this..." He walked to the edge of the pit, staring down into it. A collection of rain sat at the bottom, already starting to have grounds for mosquitos.

"Wh- W-Wilbur?"

"We've gone over this, Tubbo. It's me." He smiled to let him know he was just teasing, getting back up and looking around one more time. "This place is amazing..."

"I-It is, and we can talk about that, but we have to talk about you first." Instinctually, he reached out to grab his shoulder, but his hand just went through him. Wilbur didn't disappear, though, so he was left to stare at his now freezing fingers. "You're real."

"Of course I am."

"How did you even get here?!" Tubbo wasn't angry or excited, but he wasn't without a bit of wild confusion. It'd been a while since Wilbur had died, and now he came back as a ghost? Did he have vengeance in him? Why was he acting so casually?

"I just got here!" That didn't tell him anything!

"Wilbur, that's..." That's when he realised he wasn't going to get a straight answer out of him until he accessed his situation first. "Wilbur, are you alright?"

"Well, if being dead is alright, then yeah!" He smiled at him and fixed the beanie on his head. Tubbo put the pieces together that this was an old outfit of his, which made him put his guard down. "What have you done with L'Manberg, Tubbo? It's beautiful! How many more people live here?"

"I'd say, ah, more than five or four. Definitely more than five or four."

"That's wonderful, Tubbo- Oh, where is everyone else?"

His eyes danced around the city to pick out where certain people were, but he said assuredly, "Phil is somewhere. He must have built his place in L'Manberg; I told him he could. I don't know where else he could go..."

"Maybe Technoblade's," he said absentmindedly, "unless he already lives here."

Tubbo stared at him and asked, "Wilbur, what do you remember of your life? I feel like...I feel like pieces are missing."

"Um, I remember..." Wilbur thought and his glazed over eyes traced the dirt below their feet. "Can I have ink and paper?"

Desperate for answers, he dug through his satchel and handed him a book and feather, watching as he plopped onto the ground and bent over the leather-bound pages. He scribbled in cursive everything he could remember, sometimes stopping and letting a dot of ink take over part of the page. It took a few minutes, but once he was done, he handed the book over to Tubbo with an innocent smile. "That's all!"

Tubbo flipped through the pages, physically cringing at the shift between the lines "Phil protecting me" and "Philza stabbing me," and frowned when he reached the last page, where he left a shaky, "I don't know." He nodded and handed the book back, saying, "You should keep this Wilbur. Update it if you ever remember anything else."

"Alright!" He held the book in his hands, leaving plasma on the smooth skin. "It's a bit of a problem, this body of mine, but we can handle it."

"Y-Yeah," Tubbo agreed. "Uh, Wilbur...what do you think happened while you were alive?"

"Oh, I lived a great life! I was president and then we had an election and then I was president again and then everything blew up and then Philza killed me and now I'm here!"

"President again, you say?"

"Yeah!" Wilbur looked around at L'Manberg one more time, walking towards the wooden boardwalks and looking at the half-finished houses as he passed by. "You were secretary of state and Tommy was vice president and Niki was the secretary of state and Fundy was happy to be right beside me. Oh, it was a wonderful day, Tubbo. Don't you remember it? The lanterns? The cheering? The afterparty? Even Quackity joined us!"

Tubbo stared at him with wide eyes, taken aback. How was he supposed to respond to this? His jaw nearly went slack but he forced himself to conceal his shock for the time being and said, "Wilbur, that's not what happened."

His walk slowed down a bit and he looked at the wood below his feet, softly mumbling, "What do you mean?"

Tubbo frowned and caught up with him, slowing down to stay by his side. Weirdly, he felt like he was walking his grandpa around town rather than an old friend- if Wilbur would consider him so. "I, um...your memory is a bit faulty."

Wilbur turned his head slightly and said, "Tell me what happened."

Tubbo watched the boardwalk move below their feet, following Wilbur closely like he thought if he didn't, he would disappear. "Well, first of all, that election? You didn't win it. See, Schlatt and Quackity pooled their votes together, making them win a single percentage point ahead of your party. Remember? Swag and Pog? Schlatt?" Wilbur stared ahead blankly like he was lost for a moment and slowed down. Tubbo stopped and came in front of him, doing his best to get his attention again, but nothing seemed to work. "You alright?"

Wilbur blinked a few times and looked at the sky. "It's very nice out today," he said absentmindedly. "Is it always like this?"

"Did you hear what I said?"

Wilbur looked at him and tilted his head. "I don't know what you mean- Look around, Tubbo! It's so lovely today! You've done a great thing to this country."

Without another round of questioning or informing, Tubbo nodded dumbly. "Yes," he said. "It's a lovely day today."

Tommy was out collecting saplings and wood, happy to do anything that would get his mind off of Wilbur and Schlatt and his discs and...everything, really. Everything and anything; he didn't want to think about it. He could be a lumberman for Tubbo if that was what it took to be able to not think. It was easy to chop down trees and then chop them up further and the repetitive task was numbing his mind. He could learn to move from one tree to the next quietly, not a care in the world.

He was so deep in the nothing in his brain that he didn't hear a twig snap in the forest, nor did he notice a tall, lanky figure slowly walking through the trees, nearly hiding behind them. When he chopped the tree he was focused on down, that was when it finally sank in that there was someone there with him. Just behind the tree stood what looked like an enderman at first, but then Tommy realised that it was not an enderman and just an extremely tall man.

Looking up, his cornflower eyes met with glowing green and red ones. Pasted across their face was a jagged mouth in the shape of a smile, something that seemed like an enderman, and a crown sat atop their head, half of their face black and the other half white. Long, noodle-like fingers stretched down to the middle of their thighs and, despite all of this, Tommy managed to freeze up. His axe was raised slightly, the blade just beside his face.

"Hello-"

But Tommy wasn't ready to greet them and swung at them, surprising himself when the axe didn't connect and instead flung him around in a circle from the force. After one spin, he fell on his ass and looked up to see the person behind him instead of where they were meant to be. He crawled away, his legs kicking him back until he hit a tree, and panted before realising he had dropped his axe and was now left without a weapon. Damn him for emptying his shit before getting the wood!

"Stay back!" he yelled at them, but they just came closer and bent down in front of him. "Back up!"

"Do you know where I am?"

He blinked a few times and watched as their innocent eyes looked around the forest. "L-L'Manberg. You're near L'Manberg."

"Is it a city?"

"A country, actually," he explained, though still wary of him. "I'm the vice president."

"Oh! Cool! I'm Ranboo!" He put his hand out to shake and Tommy wasn't one to turn down hospitality, so he shook his noodle hand. "What's your name?"

"Tommy," he answered. Once they were done with the handshake, Ranboo took out a journal and a pencil and started writing things down, which made him tilt his head. "What're you doing?"

"I'm writing it down. I have a bad memory." It didn't take long for him to jot down Tommy's name, status, and how they met, so when he was done with that, the journal was tucked away in his pocket and he stood again, helping Tommy to his feet while he was at it. He didn't seem...too bad of a fellow. He was hesitant to speak to him, but he had this air about him that told him he was safe here. It was like when he would hang out with Dream, but not in the sense that Dream could fuck anyone around him up. Ranboo felt like he would wait for him while he tied his shoe. "Can I see L'Manberg?"

"Y-Yeah, sure, mate." He smiled at him and led him around. "You know, I'm one of the founders of L'Manberg."

That seemed to pique his interest. "Really?"

"Yeah! In the beginning, we were just a little caravan in the middle of the forest away from society. I made the place with my brother, Wilbur, and we did all kinds of stuff- we got into our first war and I won our independence after losing a duel by trading my discs and shit. The story of the discs is a really long one, so we'll skip it for a second, but Wilbur and I ruled for a little bit and then we held an election and even though it all went downhill, we still won the war after that and-and..."

Ranboo tilted his head and asked, "What is it? What happened next?"

Tommy bit at the corner of his mouth. "And now Tubbo, my best friend, is president and I'm his right-hand man."

"Well, that's not too bad," Ranboo said, able to tell he was getting a little sad. "What's wrong with that?"

Tommy shook his head and smiled at him. "Nothing. Just that Wilbur's not here to see it."

His eyes widened as the dots connected in his head. "I'm-"

"We don't have time to dwell. Come on! The place looks great, Ranboo! I'm sure we still have a spot open for you to have a little house!"


	5. Chapter 5

Tubbo couldn't believe he was looking at someone who towered over him by nearly 3 heads, and it was even harder to believe that he was extremely thin. And even while slouched to keep his head from hitting the ceiling, he was so tall- too tall. He wanted to ask, but how do you ask someone why they are the way they are without being disrespectful? You never just ask someone why they look the way they do, or why they talk like that, or what their stance is on abortion and how much money should go to the military.

It was just awkward, was all.

To make matters worse, he couldn't get a word in with Ranboo. Wilbur was too busy swarming him by himself. He was floating around him with splayed hands and a bright smile, those glazed over eyes haunting his very being. Ranboo didn't mind him; Tommy sure did. In all his years, Tubbo hadn't seen Tommy in this much shock for such a long time. His jaw was completely slack and not even a question that Tubbo thought was funny- that being, "Where do you live in L'Manberg?"- would snap him out of his stupor.

Tubbo felt something like a vase cracking and threatening to fall apart inside himself when he looked at Tommy because he knew the exact reason he was staring like that. Nothing more had to be said; he hadn't been in town all day on Tubbo's orders and had only come back because of Ranboo, so of course, he didn't know what had happened while he was gone. Those lost eyes hurt him deeply. Tommy didn't deserve to feel that hurt.

Soon, Tommy caught his stare and blinked in his direction. They stared at each other, turned to Wilbur at the same time, and then went back to staring at each other. Tubbo gave him a sad smile and said, "I would've told you if I had the time to, Tommy, but he...you know."

"I know," he said. Lied, Tubbo guessed. "I just...can't believe it."

"I couldn't, either." For a few moments, they watched Wilbur circle around Ranboo and fix his clothes for him, leaving plasma on the fabric.

"Oh, you look so dapper! Lord, I've asked too many questions; you must be absolutely exhausted from me!" He gasped and pulled out a lump of dark blue, asking, "Would you like some blue?"

Ranboo raised a brow with a tilt of his head and took it, gently squishing it in his hands. It let out a warm, blue liquid that seemed to stick to his hands and dripped to the floor, which was only slightly worrying. Slightly, only because he wasn't sure what it was. If it was an animal, that would probably be concerning to the extreme. That would have meant he squished an animal until it let out blue liquid. Then again, if it let out blue liquid and squished like it did, then maybe it was a creature of the deep. Then that would be less concerning.

"Ranboo, were you listening?"

He suddenly popped his head up and shook his head from side to side. "Not at all." He did not have the time to explain why he wanted to squish creatures of the deep to himself.

Wilbur laughed and floated above him, pulling out more pieces of blue and showing them off. "These are called blue because they turn blue when they suck up your sadness! They start transparent, right? I give them to everybody because I don't want anyone to be sad and that's why I'm giving some blue to you. I don't want your stay to be sad; I built this country a long time ago and it looked _much_ different, but that's another story. If you're going to live here, I'm going to make sure you stay happy!"

Ranboo smiled and, although Wilbur was obviously a ghost, went along with his small stories. Without another thought, he put the blue away to keep for later and took out his journal to note what he told him down. "I have a bad memory," he explained absentmindedly as he scrawled in his notes.

"I think I have a bad memory, too."

"Really?"

"Yes!" Wilbur turned but his smile dropped when he looked at the space where Tommy and Tubbo were supposed to be standing. "Oh. Where did they go?"

The pair stared at where Tubbo and Tommy originally stood, but there was only dust where they were meant to be. Awkward, only because Ranboo thought he was supposed to get a tour from Tubbo. Well, plans were allowed to change, weren't they? He turned to Wilbur and asked, "Would you be my tour guide in place of Tubbo?"

Wilbur beamed and said, "I'd be honoured to show you around!"

With his mask resting on top of his head, Dream gently clipped the two sides of George's ermine robe together. It pressed on his shoulders snugly and the clothing he was wearing underneath was comfy enough for him. "I didn't think I'd get dressed up just because I'm a king."

"Well, past this moment, you can dress however you want." He adjusted the two sides so he looked symmetrical, gently tugging on the fabric to get it to sit perfectly.

"Oh, so thoughtful, aren't you?"

Dream chuckled and backed away to admire him. The sunlight coming in from the window behind him framed his face perfectly, didn't it? And the fur, the way it brightened him up; the way the red balanced everything else out. George carefully straightened out his shirt, those brown eyes barely catching his gaze.

"Dream?" George nervously grinned at him and shook his head. "Come on, don't stare at me."

A question came to him: how could someone that pretty be completely aware of themselves yet unaware of how others saw them? George thought he was pretty; how was it he didn't know Dream thought he was pretty, too? That could have been the only explanation for his staring. With a soft laugh, he turned to a table, carefully lifted the crown, and placed it atop his head, careful not to disturb the thick curls. "There we go. You look great, George."

He smiled a little wider at that. Tension left and allowed his shoulders to calmly fall from his chin to a normal level. "I know; thank you for noticing."

Dream was vaguely aware of his tension. George was vaguely aware of what he'd been consumed by. Being trapped in marble walls, a promised life of luxury was more of a prison sentence than anything because of his presence.

Dream was vaguely aware of his apprehension. George was vaguely aware of how close he was to him at all times.

Yes, their relationship was...vague; Dream had crowned him in place of Eret because they weren't neutral. His question was what made Dream believe George would remain neutral? Then it became clear to him when he was given a crown _by Dream,_ put in the palace _by Dream,_ and watched over _by Dream._ He was his knight. To outsiders, George was the safest man in the world. There was nothing to fear with Dream on his side. The strongest knight he could ever get was constantly by his side now, which wasn't entirely unlike how it was before his status of royalty.

He was the strongest man he knew, which was why it frightened him when Dream once firmly grabbed his shoulders, stopping him in the middle of a long hallway, and simply looked him in the eye. Gently leaning into his ear, he whispered the harsh words, "No one will ever believe you if you tell them what goes on in here, will they?"

The small question at the end implied he knew something, didn't it? What was he meant to know? He asked, "What do you mean?"

And Dream, the calmest he'd ever heard him, said, "I mean me."

A chill went up his spine. He tried to push him away, but it didn't matter; his hands were glued to his shoulders and no matter how much he squirmed, he couldn't escape him and his insidious words, his blank stare. "This is a really stupid joke," he tried, but it didn't work. Dream only pulled him closer and forced his voice deeper into his ear. He was inescapable. He was drowning in him.

"If there ever comes a time where you're in danger, just know, _that's controllable."_

His eyes widened at the threat and he yelled, "Dream, that's enough!"

"Don't you _ever_ go against me, George. I put you in place for a reason and that was so everything was neutral. Do you understand? Anything that happens to you, it's because of me, so you better start getting scared and thinking about what I will and won't like." Dream removed one hand from his shoulder and grabbed his face, twisting it to lock eyes with him. "Don't shake. I'm not even hurting you. Am I understood?"

What else was he to do? Dream was acting much calmer than he was. Was this normal? Was this something he should just accept? Was Dream laying out a fact of life to him? Was it him who was acting crazy? "Y-Yes."

Dream then let him go and continued his journey through the castle. "Go to your room, George. It's late."

Not a moment later, he went to his room and stared at the rug under his feet, trying to make sense of the situation. He would fail that night.

Now, standing in front of Dream in a fancy outfit, he acted as if nothing happened between them. He would often do this. It made him feel crazy, crazier than he'd felt that night because the way he acted was...confusing. That was the only word for it. He would ask him what he meant by those words sometimes and he would stare at him like he had a lobster tail for a head. "What do you mean, George? I never said that. I would _never_ say that."

The question was no longer _why_ he said those things. It slowly morphed into a question of his own sanity. Had he dreamed it? But it felt so real that it couldn't have been a dream. Then the only explanation was that he was losing his mind because if Dream wasn't the one to reiterate that George was at his whim, then clearly he hadn't said anything. No matter how much interrogating he did, Dream would never confess to him that he said what he said. Had he said it at all?

Dream came to his side and fixed his hair, smiling softly as he did so. George was never at ease when he was this close to him, but he never said anything. He just...wanted to run. Run away, go to his little cottage. But Dream knew where that was, too. What was the use of it? "Are you ready?" 

George nodded and said, "Whenever you are."

George actually didn't know what they were doing today, or why he was dressed up this nicely, but he followed Dream through the door and into the small meeting room that he hadn't seen before today. Standing in the window across from the door, Sam looked out and turned when the door clicked closed. "This place is beautiful..."

"Thank you," Dream said and got George to a seat. Dream stood behind him, which was a scary feeling for George because he could only look ahead. He was sure Dream did that on purpose.

"Well, what business do you want, Geo-"

"A large building," Dream interrupted him. "I want a sort of prison built. You're good with machinery, right? I want a prison so large, so complicated, built just right so that no one put inside of it can escape."

George's brows furrowed, unsure of why he needed that. Sam looked confused, too. "For who?"

"You don't need to know who." But the way Dream Squeezed George's shoulder let him know everything. Sam didn't realise it; he'd only ever worked with him and Team Chaos, so he had no clue what he was like now. The Dream he knew was gilded. He trembled under his hand, gaze never wavering and face never shifting. "I want this built for someone who knows a little too much."

Eventually, Sam took his payment, went off to gather his materials, and Dream walked away without another word. George walked to his room and looked at himself in the mirror. Worry was apparent on his face, straining his brows and turning his hands into fists. He took off his crown and looked at it, watching the way they jewels he couldn't even distinguish the colours of reflected in the sunlight. With tears in his eyes, he threw the crown at the mirror and watched it shatter. He let out of a soft sob.

Gradually, he fell to his knees and shrugged his robe off. He had to maintain composure. Did he know too much?


	6. Chapter 6

Phil rushed to take off his coat as he walked into L'Manberg, quickly stuffing it into his backpack, which was much harder than he expected. At this point, he was struggling so much with it that he wanted to just put it in his ender chest, but he was stubborn. This fucker was going to fit, goddammit! He leaned up against a building where he wouldn't be seen and finally managed to stuff it in with an exasperated sigh, flung it onto his back again, and turned around the corner where he was stopped dead in his tracks again.

Wilbur was floating around and looking into windows, smiling softly and chuckling to himself. His ghostly form was clear; his skin was grey and he was translucent, wearing different clothes from what he died in. He still remembered that outfit, though. Though Wilbur seemed...mostly okay, Phil couldn't get his feet to move. It took Wilbur spotting him for him to finally move towards him because, at that point, he had no choice but to.

"Phil!" He smiled and dropped to his side, floating around him and eventually finding himself upside down in front of him. "You look lovely as always! Phil, you really have to catch me up to speed here, because I have no clue what has been happening whilst I've been gone."

Phil struggled with a response, so he simply said, "Okay, Wilbur." He smiled and motioned for him to flip himself around, which he did as soon as he asked it of him. "You look..."

"Dead!" He laughed but stopped once he noticed Phil didn't laugh with him. "Yeah, I'm dead- b-but we don't need to worry about it too much. I'm here now. That's fun, isn't it?" Wilbur was doing his absolute best to make this better for him, but Phil's thousand-yard stare didn't seem to leave him. "Phil, calm yourself; have some blue." And with that, he handed him a fluffy bit of blue that felt damp in his hands. Phil studied it and seemed a bit confused for a moment. "It sucks up your sad."

"I-I'm not sad, just..." He finally laughed, albeit more of a gasp, and pocketed the blue. "Wow."

_"Wow!"_

"You're here!" Phil smiled and let tears come to his eyes but never fall. "God, you're here, a-and you're mostly okay!"

_"Wow!"_

Phil laughed and tried to hug him, but only ended up going through him. That attempt left plasma on his arms that confirmed to him there was no way to hold his son ever again. He closed his eyes tightly as Wilbur was behind him, showing just a hint of vulnerability, as he remembered the feeling of holding him in his arms for the last time, the life draining from him, the way his head sat on his shoulder and his body sagged as he whispered a soft, "Thank you."

"Well, that's fine, Phil," Wilbur said with a grin on his face. "Everything's alright! We can be happy!"

Phil wanted to believe that, but it just wasn't the same. Still, he could try. He could try for him. "Yes, Wilbur." He turned his head up and opened his eyes, studying him and his strained smile. Not even Wilbur looked entirely happy with the circumstances. "How does it feel? Being dead, I mean."

"It's...cold." He jumped when Phil's face shifted in panic and quickly held out his hands to calm him down. "B-But it's just 'cause I'm dead! I'm dead, Phil; that's why I'm cold."

He let out a sigh of relief and nodded. "How did you even come back? Why?"

"Well, I don't know the logistics, but I just...came back! And I'm here! I have unfinished business, I think." Whatever that business was, neither of them seemed to know. Wilbur perked his head up as he realised something and asked, "Can I see your wings?"

Phil was slightly embarrassed by the question, but nodded anyway and removed his shawl, allowing his wings to pop out from underneath. With a groan, he stretched them and smiled to reassure him that he was perfectly fine. There was some doubt in that notion, though, because both his wings looked singed and bare. "They're just a little broken."

Wilbur frowned and asked, "Can you even fly, dad?"

He blinked at that. He hadn't heard anyone call him dad in a little bit. "N-No, Will."

That seemed to make him upset, but he still reached out to gently pet the wings, covering some feathers in thick plasma. There wasn't much else to do but smile to keep him happy, but Wilbur's eyes were dim and his smile was gone when he looked at Phil's wings. He held the wing, cradled one in his arms and looked at Phil, tenderly handing him more blue. "You'll need it." With a gentle smile, he backed away and seemed to spring back after the moment with his wings.

Phil couldn't forget the day he broke his wings because it was the same day he had to kill Wilbur. When he protected Wilbur from the blast, he wrapped him up in his wings, and as a consequence, there was no way for him to fly anymore. Rather than have them out all the time, gathering pitiful looks from other people and reminding himself every day that Wilbur was gone, he put them under his clothes. He threw his shawl over his folded wings and adjusted his kimono, watching as Wilbur floated around the area.

"Hey, Will, what do you think you need to do? What's your unfinished business?"

He tilted his head in contemplation, looking towards the sky to think about it. "It might have to do with you or Tommy, but I...I really wanna find Techno." He turned towards him and smiled brightly. "The Blade! I haven't seen him in a while."

Phil gave a slight grin, but that was the most he could get out of him. This just felt...weird. He followed behind him and nodded to what he had to say, but Wilbur was just not Wilbur. No matter how he looked at it, Wilbur wasn't himself. He was dead. No amount of time, of blue, of _him_ could change that.

Still, he wasn't one to disappoint, so when Wilbur wanted him to humour him, he did, and he would've done it a thousand times over. He listened to his music and let him tell stories about L'Manberg. When he was out of stories, they lit lanterns and watched them fly into the sky. "I wish you could carry them up, Phil."

"I wish I could, too," he replied. Above them, far off in the distance, crows cried as the lanterns slowly floated away. For a little longer, they could pretend that nothing had changed.

Karl glanced around the living room, watching as paper scattered away from Quackity like rats in the dark as he walked. His steps were uneven, his smirk twisted. Not too long ago, he'd gotten a text from him to meet him outside of L'Manberg, which struck him as odd. Quackity never ordered him to do much; they were pretty friendly with each other. "Quackity, what did you call me here for?" He crossed his arms and gently rubbed his sides to keep warm, getting chills just standing there. "Your place looks really messy..."

"That doesn't matter," he said calmly. He grabbed a sack and threw it on the table, waiting until Karl came to his side to put his hands on the ropes that tied it so tightly. It was...wet. The sack was wet and looked like it was starting to leak onto the table, not that it mattered. It had already left a red puddle not too far away on the floor, staining the boards and oozing through the small cracks to the floor below. He hoped there was no one downstairs. "Karl, I need your help."

"With...what?"

"Schlatt."

Karl raised a brow, but everything fell into place as Quackity opened the bag and a foul smell escaped it, making him cover his mouth and back away. It was coming at him from all angles, burning his eyes and filling his mouth with a rotten taste. The attack never seemed to end. "Oh my god!"

"Karl, I _need_ you."

He stared into the bag and saw decaying flesh falling off arms, exposing the bone underneath. The heart sat on top of the heap that he presumed was Schlatt, but there wasn't a head. For some reason, the head was just gone. "I-I thought-"

"Whatever you thought, it was wrong. He's all here." He smiled at him and asked, "Karl, do you know who Frankenstein was?"

"Y-Yes. The doctor, he-he brought back a monster."

"He played god," he said, "just to have the perfect man in front of him. Someone intelligent, strong, tall- he brought him back with a bunch of stitched-together parts and made a man. Do you wanna know something?"

No, he didn't. "What?"

"The monster was only called a monster because when people saw him, they were scared of him! He never did anything to anyone. Never did anything wrong. Never wanted to do anything wrong. When they called him a monster, he had a role to fulfil. That's what's going on here, Karl. How would you like to be Frankenstein with me? How would you like to play god? How would you like to bring back the perfect man?"

"Quackity, what the hell are you talking about?!"

He glared and, through gnashed teeth, yelled, "I'm talking about Schlatt!" He laughed and grabbed his arm, that bright, cheerful smile greeting Karl again. "We can make him better! We can steer him in the right direction- get power beyond your wildest dreams!" Those large eyes stared right into him, trying to find the depths of his soul. Karl had a feeling it didn't take much to find the bottom. "Don't you want to overthrow the government? Get rid of Tubbo? Karl, doesn't that sound great?"

"I-It sounds terrifying." He stared at the bag, though, and felt...desire swell in his chest. Yes, he wanted power, just a little bit. He couldn't admit it, but he wanted it. Rarely, if ever, did he get to fight for something that was his and purely his. Instinctually, he held Quackity's arm- out of fear or out of excitement, he wasn't sure- and their grip on each other got tighter as the seconds passed. Nearly the same height, both men split their gaze between each other and the bag full of a rotting Schlatt.

"Sometimes, it takes a bit of terror to make someone realise what they want," Quackity said.

"And what if what I want is what you want?"

Quackity smiled and locked eyes with him. "I've been waiting for you to say something like that for so long, Karl." He laughed and leaned into his arm, the two cackling together and jumping around. "This is gonna be amazing, Karl! Trust me!"

The list he was given of things to gather to have this plan work- wither skull, fermented spider eye, golden carrots, nether wart, and blaze rods- was rather simplistic and it was easy to fill in the gaps of whatever Quackity was planning. Karl just wasn't entirely sure if bringing back a dead man was the moral thing to do. Still, he wanted the same thing Quackity wanted. They wanted power. They wanted to rule. They wanted to overthrow Tubbo and take his place.

But that wasn't entirely true, was it? Karl could admit to himself that he didn't want to hurt Tubbo or take anything away from him, but he felt that he had no choice. He was sure Quackity felt the same. Or was he just lying to himself to make the situation feel better? Telling himself that he didn't want to hurt anyone didn't change the fact that he was going to hurt someone. Karl entered his house and shut the door, locking it behind him.

Maybe it was alright to hurt him. If that was what he had to do, then so be it. What did it matter anyway? Karl put the note in his pocket and peered out the window, lanterns lighting up the sky and setting the manmade lake on fire. L'Manberg was beautiful, but it could be better, couldn't it? Quackity and he could make it better. 

That was when he noticed that, off in the distance, smoke was rising from the forest and fire was spreading from tree to tree in the heart of it all. It made him squint to get a better look, but he almost immediately realised that the only way for him to figure out what was burning was to go there. No point in trying to stop a forest fire in the middle of the night. No man could do that. He closed the shutters and went to his bed, sitting on the edge and hoping that everything was alright.

Tommy opened his eyes and found himself in the freezing, quiet, and dark ravine that they called Pogtopia at one point. He was sat in the middle of the bridge that joined their ravine to the other, his eyes wide as he peered around. Buttons covered the walls and floors, so much so that he couldn't take a step without pressing them. Because of how empty it was, it felt like more buttons were clicking as he stepped on them, making him grow tense as he continued along. He hoped to god there wasn't a button connected to another old batch of TNT.

That was when he spotted him. Squatting on the steps with his head down, Wilbur was in his trenchcoat and beanie and wearing his fingerless gloves and as just as thin and starved as he was- as all of them were while they lived here. His heart picked up speed, but something inside of him wanted to speak to him. If this was his last chance to get answers, he would take it. "Wilbur?" But still, his words were short and shaky, revealing how scared he was to even speak to Wilbur. He was dead; he was a ghost; now he was...here.

Wilbur raised his head and that same vacant stare met his gaze. There was no doubt about it. This was his Wilbur. This was the Wilbur that lived in Pogtopia all that time ago, the Wilbur that blew up L'Manberg, the Wilbur that left him. He never showed any emotion because he couldn't feel them anymore. If there was a feeling in his eyes that he could place, it was anger and jealousy. Most of the time, though, he was staring ahead blankly. "What is it?"

Tommy came towards him and glanced around, quietly asking, "What are you doing here?"

"I live here, Tommy. We both did."

He gulped and nodded as if he understood. "Wilbur, I...I'm not sure how I got here."

"You walked," he answered.

"I don't remember me walking here-"

"I don't remember being alive, but here we are."

"So, you know you're not supposed to be here?"

"I don't know that I'm _not_ supposed to be here, but I also don't know if I'm supposed to be here." Wilbur stood, once again towering over him like he would when he was alive. He backed away, but Wilbur closed the distance and said, "Tommy, I think you have something to ask me."

Tommy did have something to ask him, but he wasn't sure how or if he should. The question was just at the tip of his tongue.

"Tommy, ask."

He winced at the sound of his voice and finally asked, "Why? Why did you do it?"

"I did a lot of things," he said, "so you'll have to be more specific."

"Why'd you...Why? Why'd you say all those things to me? Y-You convinced me I had no power; you constantly lied to me. You never loved me, Wilbur. We were never friends. Why pretend?" The tears were starting to fill his eyes, but he had to be strong. "I was just a kid. I'm still a kid- Why do you do anything?! Why am I here?! Why am I trying?! Why are you back?!"

"Tommy," he said calmly, "I said you would never become president, that you would never have power, that you would never do anything because I was telling the truth. All that time I spent with you during my first term? It was a lie. You were _always_ going to be _just my little brother._ Never a president, never a leader, nothing and no one." He laughed and brushed the hair out of his eyes with his thin hand. "How did you not see it? You were always treated like a kid because I always saw you as a kid. Everyone does!"

"That's not true!"

"It is, and you acting like this is _proof_ that you were and still are a kid. You are not fit to run and I first told you to be president because I knew you would experience the pain of losing something that was yours when I finally blew it up! You were just too stubborn to take it; I gave it to Tubbo instead because then, one of your friends could experience what I felt."

"What did I do to you?! I didn't do anything!" He sobbed and shoved him back into the wall, watching that stupid smirk come over his face when he thought he was riling him up. He was giving him just what he wanted. He was always giving him what he wanted. "Wilbur, I loved you! I wanted to be you! Y-You fucked everything up for us!"

"You did that yourself," he said. "I never loved you. I never _wanted_ to love you. I never told you that I loved you; why would you assume I did? I wasn't planning on getting attached to you or liking you or wanting you to be anything other than a stepping stone."

"To what? To a fucking presidency?"

"Exactly." He got himself off the wall and smiled at him, those wide eyes returning from his past and drowning him in fear. "I wanted to rule! That was _it!_ There was nothing more to it! I didn't want you or that shitty country or friends- I wanted to _rule over you!_ I wanted to rub it in your face in small ways and keep going for years and years and years down the line and become the one thing that people relied upon! You are _stupid_ for thinking I ever cared about you or your friends."

Tommy whimpered and let out a sob, the tears flowing down his cheeks. "You're lying."

"You know, Tommy? For once in my life, I'm not. This is the real me. This is who you wanted to be- I bet you still want to be it."

"No. No, no, no, I don't-"

"You do! I can sense it!" Wilbur's voice filled his ears, leaving him to back away and tumble down onto the floor when his foot caught on a lip. He tried covering his ears, but that didn't seem to help at all. "You want to be like me? Go ahead and do it! It's not that hard, Tommy; all you have to do is look at the family tree, right? We are _all_ like this. The Blade, Phil, me, you? We're all in the same boat! This family has deeply rooted issues, Tommy, so there's no fighting your destiny. You are fated to become like me, just as you are fated to be like Phil and Techno."

"Shut up!"

"You will become a weapon and a traitor and they will see you as such until the very end. Until you break like I did. Until you fuck up like Techno. Even now, you're just having a nervous breakdown! This is just the start, Tommy."

"Go away!"

"'Go away?' _You_ came to _me._ Tommy, _I'm not even real."_

Then there were hands on his shoulders and he was gasping for air. His eyes shot open to see green cloth and someone taller than him forced him to sit up. He fought with them, shoving and kicking as hard as he could to no avail. Their hands kept holding his shoulders and he didn't stop until he heard a familiar voice finally call, "Tommy, stop!"

He focused on their face and met eyes with Dream, whose mask had now been kicked to the side. He held onto his shoulders and simply stared at him with a worried expression, those green sleeves covered in snot and tears and droplets of blood from when he fell onto the ground and, apparently, busted his lip. Tommy stared at him and, after a moment of them staring at each other, pressed his face into his shoulder and wrapped his arms around him out of fear and a need to be comforted.

"You worried me," Dream whispered. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," he lied. "I'm fine."

They exchanged no more words as Dream led him out of Pogtopia and onto the surface, where a forest fire raged. Tommy's eyes grew as he looked around. "D-Did I do this?"

"Yes," Dream said. "You did."

The embers floated through the air as the wind carried them away. He didn't remember doing any of this. He didn't remember.

"You're making this quite the habit," he commented.

"I know," Tommy said through shaky breaths.


	7. Chapter 7

"So, what was that about?"

Tommy glanced up at Dream and shook his head, coming out of his mind for a moment to speak to him. "I..." There really wasn't an explanation he could give him that would make him believe he was sane, if sane was the right word. Quite frankly, he thought he was losing it. He was still shaking from earlier and he was starting to feel sick, so talking about what he experienced wasn't exactly top priority. He just wanted to go home.

"It's hard to explain," Tommy said softly, his eyes turned toward the ground.

Dream nodded and rubbed his back, trying to provide him with some comfort before they made it to L'Manberg. "I want you to know that it's alright, kid. You'll be fine. It's hard right now, but it'll get better."

Somehow, he doubted that but he didn't want to get a whole dissertation about it from Dream of all people, so he nodded.

"If you need a break, come to me." The promise of an escape was enough for him.

Soon, they were at L'Manberg, and Tommy saw light coming from a building along with the bustle of conversation, letting him know they were having a meeting and he was missing all of it. He sighed and wiped up his face, instinctually lifting his head high and standing up straight, which Dream seemed to pay attention to. Tommy was a strong kid and had a great resilience but it was certainly not by choice.

"See ya, Tommy."

"See ya."

The moment the door opened, the conversation filled his ears; Quackity's angry yelling, Fundy's firm agreeance, and Tubbo's stubborn silence were the only things that ever came into this room. Tommy always had to be the one to back Tubbo up, but he wouldn't have it any other way. As annoying as it was to be the one to have to stand up for his ideas, he was his best friend and best friends always had each other's back. They'd survived wars and exiles and separation; a little irritation wasn't going to split them apart.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Tommy looked around and made the room stand still, Quackity glaring at him from across the room.

"Where have you been?" Quackity walked over to him. The only reason he maintained a presence in the room was because of how loud and forthright he was; he wasn't as tall as Tommy or Fundy, but Fundy mostly agreed with him and gave him a platform to spew whatever garbage he wanted to spew at Tubbo. "We've been here for hours!"

"That is not your concern," Tubbo said. "He's here now. That's all that matters."

"What-"

"I'm not talking about his absence anymore." Tubbo looked around and sighed. "Tommy, sit next to me."

Once he was next to him, he leaned over and whispered in his ear, "I'll have to speak to you after this, but for now, catch me up."

Tubbo shook his head and whispered back, "Quackity has been arguing all night. It doesn't seem like he'll stop any time soon."

Tommy looked back at Quackity and asked, "So, what is it you were yelling about?"

Quackity said, "I think it would be best that we cut Dream out of all our discussions. No one should have contact with him, and if one of us is caught talking to him without Tubbo around to listen, we should be punished."

Tommy raised a brow and said, "He doesn't influence our politics, so I don't see a reason to ban everyone from speaking to him."

Fundy finally spoke up and said, "Quackity and I know that you have been speaking to Dream-"

"Not about politics," Tommy argued. "I've been trying to make friends with him to get my discs back. Once that's done, I'm cutting off all ties with him."

"To get your discs back? And what happens when that turns into something more than just trying to get your discs back?" Quackity folded his arms across his chest.

"It won't. I don't know where you even got that."

"Really? Are you sure? Remember Wilbur and how sure you were of that?"

Tommy dodged his eyes and let out a huff. "That's not the same."

"It is! It's a lie, just like this, just like the past!"

"Wilbur is different from Dream! Wilbur was unstable a-and he was unpredictable-"

Fundy suddenly came at him with, "Sort of like you? You've been disappearing more and more frequently-"

"That doesn't mean anything," he tried to defend himself. "You're grasping at straws."

Fundy glared and said, "You're the one who's pale and trembling."

Tommy blinked a few times before he looked at himself and then at Tubbo, who also seemed to notice how he looked. In a mirror on the wall, he saw a part of his face and there was the pale, shaking little kid that they were talking about. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, his skin as white as paper, and his shoulders all the way up to his chin because of how tense he was. His feet felt cold, but everything else was so warm. Tubbo gently took his hand and whispered, "Do you want to step out?"

He looked at him and then at Quackity and Fundy. For once, the two didn't seem spiteful when they looked at him and now were...concerned. Maybe scared was the proper word. He didn't blame them; he was starting to get scared for himself. He looked back at Tubbo and nodded, agreeing to step out of the room, to which Tubbo smiled.

Before they left, he turned to Quackity and Fundy and said, "Everything you said to him tonight was completely unnecessary. Go home. We will reconvene tomorrow afternoon." His eyes seemed to pierce through them, making them bitterly leave the room. If they were capable of feeling guilt, Tommy hoped they were a little guilty.

"Tommy?"

He turned to look at Tubbo and quickly followed behind him, watching the stars as they walked home, completely zoning out. It was a little sad that he couldn't see the stars around L'Manberg lately because of how bright it was becoming. It wasn't an issue; it simply bothered him a little. He missed the stars. He kind of wondered if he would ever see the massive expanse of stars, the line of purple and blue and white and gold that hovered in the sky, becoming a constant in his life. It was there during the first war; it was there when he was exiled; it was there when it hit him Wilbur was gone.

"Tommy, did you hear what I said?"

He looked down and quickly wiped his hands over his face, letting out a muffled, "No, I didn't, sorry."

"Don't be. You seem really stressed." He smiled and pat his back, making it to the door of their house. Before he opened the door, he asked, "Inside or outside?"

"Inside."

They sat on his bed first, Tubbo looking at him and gently rubbing his back. "Are you alright?"

He wanted to lie. He didn't want to worry him, didn't want to bother him, didn't want him to feel annoyed by him, but he didn't know what to do. Holding onto the sheets like they would save him from whatever would happen next, he admitted, "No."

Tubbo frowned and that was all he needed to know he fucked up. It was coming: the wave of pity and questions and stares that he hated, all from his best friend. He prepared himself to be dug into a hole and for the dirt to be placed on top of him, but instead, Tubbo said, "I know you don't like pity, Tommy."

"I don't."

"Do you want anything? Water? Something to eat? I'll get anything you want." He smiled and then perked his head up. "If you don't want anything, that's fine, too."

Tommy thought about what he needed or what he wanted and nothing came to mind. Despite his returning nausea and jolts of shivers that were going through his body that Tubbo could clearly see, he had no clue what he needed. What would make it better? Trying to solve this situation was harder than expected. "I-I...T-Tub..." And now he was stammering over his words and they kept getting caught in his throat. It was like he'd forgotten how to talk.

But Tubbo always came to save him when he was drowning, lava or water. "Can I show you something that helps me when I get really scared?" When he nodded, he asked, "Can I touch you?"

Tommy agreed to it, handing him his hands when he asked and letting him place them on his shoulders. Tubbo smiled and said, "Are you okay with closing your eyes?"

"W-What happens when I do?" When he spoke, it was a little harder to get the words out so they came out sloppy, but Tubbo understood well enough what he was saying.

"Once they're closed, you follow how I breathe. I won't touch you unless you want to be touched and I won't move from this spot unless you want me to move."

Tommy swallowed and nodded, but quickly looked around and pointed to a chair across the room. He wanted to get him to sit in front of him, where he could open his eyes and see him and not have to wonder if he was still beside him or not, but his jaw was tight and when he opened his mouth, nothing would come out. Tubbo walked to the chair and watched where he pointed his eyes, pushing the chair in front of him when he indicated to do so. Tommy was glad he was so readable for him.

"Is this good?"

Tommy nodded.

"Are you still okay with closing your eyes?"

Tommy nodded again and looked around the room before he finally closed his eyes, his hands gently rubbing the sides of his arms before going back to rest on his shoulders. Tubbo asked if he was ready and when he was, they both started breathing together, which seemed to relax Tommy, even if it was by a little bit. His trembling slowly went away along with the shake in his breath, and soon enough, the colour came back to his face. Tommy opened his eyes and there was Tubbo, still sitting there.

"You really didn't have to do all of that," Tommy said.

"But I did. We're best friends, Tommy." He grinned and curled his knee up to his chin, resting his head on it. "You did most of the work, anyway. You did great."

He couldn't help but smile at him. They exchanged smiles before Tommy let out a yawn and rubbed his eyes, all adrenaline finally leaving his body as exhaustion hit him like a train. "Thank you for helping, Tubbo, but you also didn't have to call off the entire meeting with them."

"It's been thirty minutes. I think for everyone's sake, it was the best course of action. You didn't feel rushed to get better, did you?"

Tommy shook his head and yawned again, letting his eyes shut before popping them open. "No, I didn't."

If there was a way for Tubbo's smile to get larger, it probably would have at those words alone. "That's good to hear." He sat beside him and thought for a moment. "What now?"

"Tell me what Quackity wants- what you want."

Tubbo sighed and said, "So many things." His smile dropped when he thought about it. "Quackity wants Dream out of our politics when he's not even in them and he's angry at you for even speaking to him. I know why you're speaking to him, Tommy, but Quackity does not."

"Big Q has lost it recently," he mumbled back as his head bobbed.

"And Fundy just follows along," he added. "Quackity has also been very angry. He came to me about you, actually; he said that you didn't deserve as much of a say as you got. Of course, he based that off of the fact that you speak to Dream, but I can't tell them why you talk to him. I know it's not for treacherous reasons and as long as it's not for that...I see no reason to punish you. It's just like Phil speaking to Technoblade. If he's not planning sedition, I'm fine with him and anyone else speaking to Technoblade, but he can't come into L'Manberg."

Tommy rested his head on his shoulder and nodded along to his words, letting his head get heavy on him and only adjusting it to get comfier. "I know, Tubbo..."

"I wish I could get through to them. I wish there was some way for them to listen to me. I'm getting sick of being undermined and treated like I'm nothing; I'm the president. I know what's good for this country." He bit the corner of his mouth and finally said, "You seem like the only one I can ever trust nowadays. You've always been the first person I come to, but now you seem like the _only_ person I can come to. I'm glad you're here, but I don't want to burden you with everything." He groaned, "I need to stop letting you argue my side. It's bad for your health and my image."

But he was met with silence, which made him blink and look around in confusion. "Tommy? Did you hear what I said?" He looked down at him and watched as his sides heaved up and down. Already in a deep sleep, he heard not a word of that and most likely wouldn't remember the conversation in the morning. He rolled his eyes and gave him a soft smile. "Well, I'm sure you get it. Don't need a lecture from me."

The birds outside woke him up enough to get his eyes to open. Sucking in a deep breath, he looked around and realised he was using Tubbo as a pillow, his hand loosely holding onto his button-up shirt. He sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes, looking down at him and snickering at the drool all over his face. Softly, he shook him from side to side and watched as his eyes fluttered open. "Tubbo, I'm up, so you should be up."

"This is exactly what I was talking about," he sleepily grumbled, turning onto his side. "You cannot do anything without getting me involved, even waking up..."

"That is so not true!"

"It is! It so-" A yawn cut him off and he closed his eyes again, relaxing into the bed. "It's so true. You woke me up because you didn't want to be awake on your own."

"Well, yeah! It's awkward and I wanna say good morning to you because we're friends and we live together and I slept well."

"Clingy," he said simply.

"I-" He yelled as he grabbed a pillow from the other end of his bed and clapped it over Tubbo's face, making him laugh and launch up to fight back. "-am _not_ clingy!"


	8. Chapter 8

Wilbur didn't have to ask to come into the house; he just floated inside as he remained invisible, leaving Fundy unaware of his presence. He watched as his son made himself something to eat and wandered to the windows, peering out of them. It was sort of nice like this. The quiet was what really made him feel calm here because it was so different from the city. They'd once passed each other, but Fundy didn't say a word to him, even when he reached out for him to try to escape the bustling streets.

Quietly, he came towards him, becoming opaque for Fundy's eyes to find him. He dropped to the ground and walked as he did instead of floating, finally coming into the light and standing beside him. Fundy didn't even seem to notice him. It was like he wasn't there in the first place. Wilbur tried to place his hand on his shoulder, but he passed right through him. Fundy never flinched and that was when he realised there wasn't a way to get him at all. The first thought that came to his mind was that he simply wouldn't be able to see him.

Then was when he caught the piano a few steps away from them, making his eyes widen and his smile grow large. Fundy taught himself how to play the piano and songs he would try to make himself as a young boy. It didn't even cross his mind that he would ever see Fundy play again! He lifted the cover and brushed his hands over the keys, not feeling the cold ivory at the tips of his fingers. A sad reminder that he was dead, but it didn't matter.

He pressed a note, making Fundy jump and look to the piano, then another note which piqued his interest. Wilbur didn't know how to play very well- he couldn't name the note for most of the keys he tapped- but he was supportive of Fundy's efforts. He remembered he was, or he was supportive now at least.

His son put down his plate of food and watched as the keys pressed seemingly on their own. It was difficult, but no matter how badly he played it or how slow, Fundy could recognize the melody. Taking his index fingers, he would press the keys like that, but Fundy quickly took his place on the seat and caused him to stutter. It was a strange feeling, sitting inside of someone who didn't even know you were there. For a moment, he wondered if there were ever any ghosts that sat inside of him while he was alive.

He got out of the seat but watched as Fundy stared at the keys with wide eyes, his brows furrowed and his shoulders stiff. "...Dad?"

Wilbur smiled and pressed a few more keys, stopping when his son's hands flew to his mouth in shock. "Well, there's nothing to be scared of," he murmured to himself. Fundy watched the keys dip down and resurface, levelling out with the other keys before another key dipped and followed the same pattern, his hands slowly coming off his face. They deliberately came down to the keys and rested, his fingers finding their places.

"Just do, um...something like this." He struck a few keys and Wilbur quickly placed his hands, pressing down as he did. "You keep playing that, alright? Take a second before you play it again." Wilbur's answer was to play the notes as he did to confirm. Fundy smiled.

Wilbur continued his simple melody as requested. Fundy breathed, taking a few moments before accompanying his father with a string of notes. Every movement he made was graceful and it took nearly his whole arm to play. His fingers stretched from one note to the next while his arms would casually traverse up and down the piano or suddenly jump from one end to the other. Wilbur watched as he held a note and his wrist seemed to count the seconds for him as it swirled in a circle, appearing to float and bob in midair.

It was a dance with himself. It almost put Wilbur to shame for only playing four notes over and over again. Then, an idea crept into his head and he glanced across the room at Fundy's old acoustic guitar. Now _that_ was an instrument he knew he could at least play at a mediocre level if he were to be humble. He leapt from the piano to the guitar and picked it up, sitting down and setting it in his lap. Fundy switched his gaze to the guitar for a moment and nearly stopped out of astonishment yet continued playing for who he believed was there.

Once the strums of the guitar started to sound and mix with the piano's tune, Fundy found himself relaxing. He leaned forward as if to give himself up to the piano, movements becoming much more vibrant. Wilbur strummed along, not bother to correct any mistakes he made nor force himself to stop and go back. He was just playing it as he felt it should be played. 

When Fundy looked at the guitar again, he smiled and burst into tears. "Wilbur, y-you didn't have to be invisible that whole time."

"I wasn't invisible," Wilbur explained with a sad smile. "You were too hurt to see me."

Ranboo's eyes lit up when he was handed a pastry and instantly allowed a long, thin tongue to slink out. He tore off a piece of the baked good and his tongue wrapped around it, pulling it into his mouth as if that was a normal thing to do- and it must've been for him. With a soft, jagged smile on his face, he chewed on the piece and relaxed in his seat though he was too tall to sit in it properly. The tops of his knees banged against the bottom of the table and he curled his back to keep his head level with the other two and stay in the conversation without looking strange.

Tommy was amazed by what he'd just done and was rendered speechless with a soft smile on his face. "What is it?" Ranboo asked him as he stared, unsure if he did something wrong.

"That was fuckin' awesome! And freaky- but mostly awesome!"

"Huh?"

Tubbo laughed and nodded in agreeance. "Your tongue! It's like a snake tongue-"

"No, it's like a frog tongue," Tommy argued.

"Snake."

"Frog."

"Snake."

"Frog."

"Actually," Ranboo interrupted, "it's more like an enderman tongue."

"What?!" Tommy hopped onto his knees in the seat, leaning forward to show his interest. Tubbo had to hold onto the table to stop it from tipping, sighing softly and shaking his head. "How do you have an enderman tongue?!"

"He never said he _had_ an enderman tongue-"

Ranboo explained, "I'm part enderman and part...something else. Not entirely sure how it happened. Please don't get so close." Tommy backed up and bounced excitedly in his seat. "Because I'm half-enderman, I can do a lot that endermen can like teleport away and make endermen noises, but I only really do that when I'm upset and stuff." He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what the white half of me is, but I know that I'm part enderman."

Both Tubbo and Tommy _ooo'd_ at that, looking at each other before looking back at him with excitement on their faces. Ranboo smiled at them and looked at his journal that sat on the table. He flipped to another page before picking it up and holding it to his chest.

"That's actually so cool," Tommy said. "Tubbo, he can _teleport._ And he has a frog tongue."

"Enderman tongue," Tubbo corrected. "Oh, would it be like an enderman in the sun? But he can live in the sun, can't he?"

"If he couldn't live in the sun, he wouldn't be here right now, idiot."

"You're an idiot, idiot; you keep calling his tongue a frog's tongue."

"Well, it's not _my_ fault that it looks like that!"

In his journal, he scrawled onto the new page with a soft look in his eyes.

_Friends:_   
_\- Tommy_   
_\- Tubbo_

"Ranboo, do you think you can show us how you teleport?" Tubbo gently pushed the leather-bound book down from his face, never threatening to yank it away from him.

"I think I've seen him teleport before," Tommy said. "I was just too scared to realise it."

Ranboo nodded and said, "You swung an axe at me, so I got out of the way."

"You were real casual about it..."

"I just wanted to know where I was."

Tubbo got up from the table and helped Ranboo up, leading him to an open area. He took out his axe. "So, if I swing now, will you teleport?"

"I would hope so!" He pocketed his journal, still slouched to keep himself from being taller than Tubbo. "Just swing and I'll-"

Tubbo didn't hesitate and instantly swung towards him, making Ranboo yelp and teleport behind him. That didn't save him from a scratch on his palm that he raised to protect himself. Red and green blood oozed out across his hand. He winced and suckled on it, looking at Tubbo and smiling to comfort him.

"Are you okay?" Tubbo came to his side and took his hand, grimacing and shaking his head. "I'm so sorry! I didn't think I'd actually get you!"

Tommy came running over and sighed, taking Ranboo's other hand quickly leading him inside to treat him. "There he goes, being stupid again."

"I'm not being stupid! I genuinely thought I wouldn't nip him!"

"I'm pretty sure this is more than a nip."

Ranboo quickly broke the two up. "I'm fine! There's no need to worry. It's just a scratch. Nothing that couldn't be fixed without a little..." He trailed off when he saw Dream building obsidian walls. "What's he doing? Tubbo, did you hire a contractor?"

Tubbo looked over and raised a brow. "Now, what the hell is he..."

Tommy growled and walked over. "Hey! We didn't ask for any walls!"

Dream glared down at him, making him cower for a moment, but as soon as Tubbo came to his side, Tommy straightened his back and held his head high. Dream hopped off the wall and looked at the two kids, then at Ranboo, who stood a few metres away. He stood confidently as if he was in the right, but Tubbo clearly had no clue why he was building these walls or why they were suddenly confronting him. Dream pushed his mask off his face to reveal the anger in his eyes and said, "If you're confused, ask Tommy about what he did."

Tubbo's brows furrowed, lips pursing as if he wanted to say something. When the words left him, he asked, "What?" Dream didn't answer his question. He went back to building the walls.

Tubbo quickly turned to Tommy, but Tommy was quick to say, "I don't know what he's talking about."

Quackity, almost on cue, came running over and yelled to Dream, "What the hell are you doing?!" Just like Tubbo, he didn't get an answer, so he turned to Tubbo and Tommy.

"Dream told us to talk to Tommy, but Tommy said he didn't do anything."

"Then tell him that!" Quackity stomped over to Dream, leaving the two kids to follow behind him. "Oi, asshole! We're not getting anything out of Tommy! Tell us what he did!"

Dream turned to scoff at them before he resumed his building. He refused to stop and instead told them, "Go see George's cottage."

Tubbo and Quackity nodded at each other and started heading to the cottage, going through a small hole in the wall that led to the main path. They started running, knowing Dream was not stopping until the problem was fixed, whatever the problem was. Tommy chased after them, having no choice but to do so, his heart pounding as they came closer and closer to the cottage. Tubbo turned a corner to the hill where it sat and gasped, his hands clapping over his mouth. Quackity slowed his run to a walk and came closer to it. He whispered, "Oh my god..."

Tommy came around the corner last and saw the rubble. It was only ash, burnt pieces of wood, and shrivelled up mushrooms that framed the cottage now. Tommy panted and came closer, his eyes wide. Quackity turned towards him and stared daggers at him. If looks could kill, Tommy would be dead. Tubbo looked at him and yelled, "You said you didn't do anything!"

"I didn't fucking do this!" He came towards him and shouted, "I _know_ I didn't fucking do this!"

"Then who did?! Who could have done this?!"

"I-I don't know! I don't put myself in George's business-"

Quackity then said, "Not unless it were for the discs."

Tubbo's eyes widened, and he looked from Quackity back to Tommy. "You wanted the discs, didn't you? You thought the discs would be here."

"No! No, no, no! That's not what happened at all!"

"So, you admit that you were here?" Quackity's glare hardened and he grabbed his shoulder.

Tommy shrugged him off and shoved him away. "I wasn't-fucking-here! I was never here! I never burnt down his house and I never had any intentions of coming here!"

Quackity asked, "Where were you last night? Before you came into the meeting, where were you? Why were you late?"

"I was..." Tommy closed his eyes tightly and said, "I can't tell you."

He rolled his eyes and walked away from him. "You're such a fucking liar."

"I am not."

"You are!" He twisted toward him and yelled, "And Tubbo's an idiot for trusting you!"

"I care for him," Tubbo spoke, "I don't trust him right now."

"Tubbo?" Tommy looked at him with a hurt expression, clenching his fists. "You...Tubbo, we're friends, aren't we?"

"We are, but you..." He sighed and looked at the cottage. "If you did this, no, I don't trust you and I certainly don't trust the fact that you won't tell us where you were. You were panicking last night, but why? Why were you so scared?"

"I-I can't say. You'll think I'm crazy."

"I think you're crazy right now!" Tubbo grabbed his shoulders and let his hands slip to his elbows before finally settling on his hands. "Tommy, I care about you, I really do, but I can't trust your word."

"Tubbo..."

"I need to speak with Dream."

Tubbo and Quackity both left, not bothering to see if Tommy would follow, leaving him standing alone next to the smouldering cottage. As he stared at it, he remembered last night and tried to go through his brain and find the moment he could have set the cottage on fire, but he couldn't remember himself leaving L'Manberg, let alone if he walked by the cottage in the first place. What made him think he could trust himself? Why did he expect Tubbo to trust him?

Maybe he only wanted him to trust him because he didn't know how to trust himself. He grimaced as he remembered all the things Wilbur said- or rather, what he imagined he said. He looked towards the skyline, hoping to find hints of the charred forest from last night, but he couldn't see it from here. The only thing left to do was to start sprinting. Taking wide strides, he sprinted into the forest, pushing past bushes and ducking under tree limbs. If there was something left that could prove his innocence, then maybe it was worth it. All he needed was evidence he was there and that Dream picked him up.

But even if he found evidence he was there, that didn't mean he wasn't also at George's cottage. He didn't know how long he was out there or if there would be any definitive proof he was out for a certain amount of time. He couldn't remember anything.

As he made it to Pogtopia, he ran to the bottom of the ravine and looked around, slipping on a puddle of water that dripped from above. He panted into the ground and quickly stood up, eyes widening when he found just the thing: droplets of blood from when he busted his lip. He rubbed his lip and winced, but that might have been enough to secure that he _was_ there for some time. Still, there was always the chance of them denying him. 

Somehow, that didn't even seem to matter. Carefully, he heaved himself up the stairs and back to the surface, pressing his back against the warm hill. The sun above wrapped him in a warm hug, reassuring him before hiding behind the clouds.

It would be okay. He was sure of it. Tubbo was his friend. There was no way in hell he would ever do anything bad to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK GOD FOR RE REFLECT UNDERSCORE RE FOR HE IS BETTER THAN I AT WRITING AND EDITING PRAISE BE AY-AY


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long chapter? long chapter. BUT WORTH IT!

"When's he going to be here?"

"Soon," Tubbo answered for the third time in the last ten minutes. In all honesty, he didn't know when Fundy was finally coming but saying whatever it took to get Quackity off his back was more important at this moment.

"Remind him that every second he wastes fucking around is a second Dream has to build those walls higher and higher."

"I will," he said blithely.

Quackity glared at him and asked, "Are you even taking this threat seriously?"

"It's not a threat at this point. We are trying to get everyone together to confront Dream as a team, not as an army. The last thing I want right now is to rush ourselves. We need to be prepared, ready to give arguments, make deals if we have to."

"I say we kick Tommy out of the country. Whatever Dream wants with him, have at it."

His eyes widened and he instantly twisted toward him. "That is _not_ happening. Are you insane?! We are never giving anyone in our country up like that!"

"You're only saying that because it's Tommy."

"I will admit, I _am_ saying this because it's Tommy, but I'm also saying it because we have more integrity than to just hand over one of our own, especially someone from our cabinet. We are better than that. I would hope you are better than that, Quackity."

He glanced away and found his seat at the table, looking down at the glossy wood. "Tubbo, we need to do something and soon."

"We can't rush this."

"We can't let him build these walls around our country!"

"We're not letting him-"

"We are!" He looked at him with a huff, his brows forced down and his nose scrunched from all the anger inside. "We _are_ letting him build those walls and the longer we sit around waiting for everyone to get their shit together, the more time Dream has to do whatever it is he wants to do. It's not going to stop at walls."

"It might."

"You're stupid for thinking that." Quackity stood and came over to him, grabbing him by his arm roughly. "Listen to me-"

"Get off me!" Tubbo yanked away from him and shoved him back, knocking himself into the wall behind him. "We are _not_ throwing Tommy out! We don't have enough evidence that he burnt down that cottage or that Dream will hurt anyone! He hasn't made any threats a-and obsidian walls aren't that hard to bypass."

"You think we're going to live with the walls he's built around us?" Without another bout of silence, he smacked him across his face, whipping Tubbo's head around as he grimaced. His face tightened as the red hand mark came across his face. "You don't care about this country!"

"I do."

"You don't care about anyone who lives here!"

_"I do."_

"You don't care about anyone's opinion other than your own! You are entirely selfish!"

"That is not true."

_"You are just like Schlatt!"_

Tubbo turned towards him at that and screamed, _"I AM NOTHING LIKE HIM!"_

"You spent so much time with him, it's no wonder you're just as despicable or manipulative, as uncaring or evil!" Before Tubbo could get another word in, he yelled, _"I knew him and I know you!"_

They panted as Tubbo tried to calm himself down to keep him from screaming in his face. Fundy came through the door, but they never broke their gaze with each other. With a straight back and cold eyes, he looked at him and, with a boom in his voice, said, "You and I are his victims. We were both influenced by him. You are just as much Schlatt as I am." Quackity's eyes widened at that and he backed away, looking at the floor instead of at him. "I know that you're scared; I'm scared, too. We need to work together. Alright?"

It was not true. He did not wish death upon him. They envisioned the same future with different methods of getting there.

He sniffled and came to him, bringing him into a firm hug which Tubbo returned. Shaking and sobbing in his arms, Tubbo simply rubbed his back and paid no attention to Fundy, who hadn't yet said a word to either man. Quackity softly said, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

"It's fine." Tubbo squeezed him and took a deep breath to relax more. Quackity pulled away when he was ready and wiped up his face, sitting down at the table with Tubbo.

Fundy cleared his throat to get rid of the awkwardness and asked, "What's going on?"

"Dream is building walls around L'Manberg because he believes Tommy burnt down George's cottage."

His brows raised to his forehead and he quickly asked, "Well, did he?"

Tubbo looked at his hands and bit his lip, trying to stop himself from saying anything. Still, the words escaped his throat no matter what he tried. "We don't know. He says he didn't but Dream believes he did and I have reason to believe that...that it _was_ possibly him."

Quackity nodded and kept quiet, though he wanted to say so many things to him. Fundy asked, "What's the plan?"

"That's what I called you here for. We're making a plan right now." Tubbo took a deep breath and set his hands on the table. "I believe...we should speak with Dream. The first thing we should ask him is how he knows Tommy did this. Once we get an answer, we start negotiations based on his answer. Ask his demands first; give ours after. The first thing we offer up is the most ridiculous solution, one he wouldn't want, and then we offer a more reasonable solution that works in our favour."

"That way it looks like the better option," Quackity said. "I-It's how most businessmen do their work."

 _"It's how Schlatt did his work,"_ were the words that were left unsaid.

Fundy nodded and asked, "Will you be doing most of the talking, Tubbo?"

"I think we'll all speak. As much as I want to be strong, I'm not exactly perfect when it comes to matters about Tommy. I can't be impartial."

Quackity nodded and said, "Then what do we all want right now?"

"I want to keep Tommy in L'Manberg while still punishing him for doing what he did- _if_ that was what he did."

Fundy nodded and asked, "What if we have to compromise in some way? What if he doesn't _want_ Tommy to stick around?"

"We'll just have to try and find a way to keep him around."

"Tubbo," Quackity said, "I don't want to argue with you, but I don't think that's how it's going to work out. Ever."

His hurt stare at the table caused his jaw to clench and his eyes to water, his hands fiddling with his sleeves and fingers nervously. He wanted to fight back. He wanted to shout at Quackity and tell him he was wrong, that they could still keep Tommy in L'Manberg, that they had _some_ power here. But that just wasn't true. It would never be true and that realisation was crushing. Everything he was doing right now- scheming ways to keep Tommy in L'Manberg, calling this meeting, arguing with Quackity- was just an exercise in futility.

There wasn't any saving Tommy, was there? He let out a sob and held his head in his hands, hiding behind his fingers. Quackity reached towards him, but he softly said, "Please, don't touch me." He backed away and frowned, staring at the table.

The meeting room was filled with his quiet sobs and whimpers as the obsidian wall outside slowly stacked higher.

Tommy's eyes fluttered as he came to and he yawned, looking around for a moment. "Oh, shit..." He rubbed his eyes, realising there was a roof over his head to protect him from the downpour of rain. He was lucky he fell asleep on just a hilly part because if he hadn't, he would probably be sitting in water. With a soft sniff, he looked up and around and finally noticed Wilbur sitting beside him, his knees curled up to his chin. "Wilbur?"

He looked at him and smiled, waving. "Hello! I couldn't find you anywhere, so I went looking for you and had a feeling you would come here."

He raised a brow and asked, "Do you know what this place is?"

It took him looking around for a few silent seconds for him to finally answer, "N-No. No clue!" Though his smile was shaky and those eyes tried to hide the stress building in his head, Tommy didn't mention it because it just seemed like everyone desperately wanted to forget Pogtopia, too. Or maybe that was just him. Pulling on the neck of his sweater, he hummed and leaned back into the hill, his hand gently scratching at the wood above him. "Did you know I can't feel texture anymore? It's quite upsetting."

"Really? So, you can't even...you can't feel the clothes on your back?"

"Nope." Wilbur stretched his legs and quickly yanked them in when his feet fell out from under the shade. A bit of him dripped into the ground, leaving plasma where he sat. "I melt in the rain."

"I see," Tommy said. He frowned a bit and asked, "Does that mean you're stuck here with me?"

"We're stuck here together. I'm not stuck here _with you;_ that implies I don't want you here and I would rather be with someone else."

"Would you rather be with someone else?"

"No." He smiled at him and asked, "Tommy, why do you seem so tense?"

He looked ahead and watched as the trees swayed in the wind, the rain splashing down and pooling around the area violently. "I can't remember what I did last night."

Wilbur thought for a moment and asked, "Have you been getting sleep?"

"No, not recently." Gently pressing the balls of his hands into his eyes, he took a deep breath and relaxed, trying to convince himself that he was safe here. Part of him wanted to run and hide, but under the shade, he was safe. He didn't like Wilbur staring at him. He didn't like the rain. "Wilbur, do you remember what you would do when you got stressed?"

"I don't remember ever being stressed," he said quickly, "but...I could help." He dug through his pockets and handed him dark, dark azure lumps that let out blue liquid in his hands. "It's blue. Have I told you about it?"

"No."

"It sucks up sadness. I feel like you're sad."

Tommy stared at the cold lump in his hand and pressed his thumbs into it, watching as the blue seeped under his fingernails and stained his rough palms. Strangely, no matter how hard he pressed or how much blue came out of it, it just got darker. "This is so..."

"Cool, right?" Wilbur smiled and said, "It's sucking in your sadness as you squeeze it."

"It's like a fuckin' stress ball or some shit."

"Yeah, you could say that."

"I'm stressing the fuck out."

"I'd imagine that's why you're playing with the stress blue." Wilbur hummed and turned toward him. "Tommy, what's happened? Something has happened, I know it."

Whatever was going through his system before he asked, it all bubbled in his chest and made him shake. His throat wanted to cave in on itself; he wanted to suffocate under the pressure; being trapped here was probably the worst thing that could have happened to him. He couldn't explain why he felt the way he did or why he was reacting so viscerally, but there wasn't any stopping either. He couldn't control it.

"Tommy?"

"I think I burnt down George's cottage and now I'm in trouble. A-And I don't know...I don't know if..."

Wilbur winced and came closer, his legs knocking into his but only going through and sending a chill through his youngest brother. "If you'll be alright?"

"If I'll be around for much longer."

His eyes widened and he looked away from him, his teeth grinding together. Everything suddenly felt fuzzy and hazy and he looked ahead at the rain and the sound filled his ears and...

"Tommy, if it gets too wet around here, I'll melt away."

Tommy just stayed silent and stared at the ground.

"I don't know what's gotten you in such a bad mood, but..." Wilbur grinned as an idea came to him. "Here's some blue."

Tommy looked at his open, blue-stained hand now filled with yet another cold lump. "Thank you, Wilbur," he said softly as he pocketed it and crawled out from under the shade into the rain. "You stay here, alright? I don't want you to get hurt or anything. Just come back to L'Manberg when it stops raining."

"Huh? But we just started having a good time!"

Tommy walked off into the distance, leaving Wilbur alone near Pogtopia.

It was like he was caught in ink- if ink often whispered in your ears and told you to kill everything in sight. Though he could hardly breathe and his chest was heaving up and down quickly, he wasn't focused on that. He tried to swim up as if the pool of black was a lake, but he couldn't find the bottom let alone the top. It was like he wasn't even moving, but he didn't exactly trust that he was. He wouldn't doubt it if he _was_ just floating in the ink.

These voices had grown up with him. They'd always sounded the same; he'd spent his life controlling how he reacted to them, controlling how loud they became, and he would often talk back to them, but _this_ was uncontrollable. _This_ could not be tamed. No matter how badly he wanted to grab the voices and strangle them out of his head, there wasn't a way to do so without injuring himself. So, here he floated, tormented by the growing voices in the black ink.

Until Phil shook him awake and he sat up in a cold sweat, his eyes threatening to pop out of his skull. "Are you alright?"

Technoblade swallowed and held his face in his palms. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? I heard you from downstairs; I felt like I had to check on you because you were mumbling to yourself."

"Did you hear what I said?" He looked to him as he swiped his hair out of his face. "Was it anything bad?"

"The usual."

He knew what that meant. He was whispering in his sleep about how he needed blood. "I always imagine that's really creepy to walk in on."

"Oh, unbelievably."

"Yeah-"

"Yeah, just extremely creepy."

"I mean, it's a guy-"

"Yeah-"

"It's a guy in his bed just mumbling about blood." Phil was doing his best to hold back a smile, but Technoblade was much better at maintaining a deadpan face than he was by design. He looked at him with that never-changing face and said, "It's like the hit movie Joker, Phil. I'm the Joker." Phil had no choice but to close his eyes and let a smile come over his face, his chuckling shaking his shoulders involuntarily.

"That's not even the plot of Joker!"

"Well, I think it is and I'm never wrong." Technoblade stretched before getting out of bed and yawning as he stepped towards the ladder to the downstairs area. "Do you want eggs or something? I can cook something for both of us."

"No, I ate before I got here- and...I want to talk to you."

"Well, I'll make eggs for myself and we can talk at the same time." Technoblade climbed down the ladder and started preparing for eggs. In fact, he was _so_ involved in the egg-making process that he didn't hear a word of what Phil was saying to him. Was that intentional? Every man had his secrets. His mind was an enigma. It was a lock without a key. It was locked as tight as the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory. Who knew if he was doing it intentionally?

Okay, he knew he was doing it intentionally.

"Techno? Did you hear what I said?"

He stopped cracking the egg and hummed softly, weighing the many responses he could give him. "No."

Phil frowned and came to his side, watching as Technoblade continued making his eggs. "Listen to me, please."

"I need you to understand that-"

"No, I need _you_ to understand something." Phil made him look at him by taking his hand and turning his head towards him softly. "I am here to help you. I know that it might be stressful for you-"

"'Might' is the keyword there. I'm extremely far from stressed, Phil."

Though he should've been used to it from Technoblade, it still hurt when he called him by his name instead of 'dad.' Did he even deserve the honorific? "You've been acting strange as of recent."

"Strange? How?" That seemed to make him irritated, so much so that he jerked his arm away when Phil tried to hold his elbow comfortingly. "I'm far from strange."

"You just woke up from a nightmare."

"I woke up in a joking mood. You're about to sour it."

"Well, if it takes me souring it for me to finally reach you, then so be it."

He glared at his father and huffed softly, his hands flying from the bowl of egg yolk to the wooden table. He allowed himself to lean into it and stared into the bowl of yellow. "Phil, what do _you_ think is wrong?"

"I think you miss Wilbur and Tommy."

He nibbled at his lip and nodded slightly. "I do." Something about that didn't feel right to him, but it was the best answer he had. It was the answer Phil gave him. Turning his head towards him, he took one hand and brushed a screen of pink out of his face. "I really miss them, but...I think it would be best if we limited who visited me to just you. Tommy can't come to visit because if they find out, I'm pretty sure they'll think of him as a traitor and that's the last thing I want for him. Wilbur is dead, so..."

"He's a ghost now, so it's possible he could come over."

Technoblade looked at him strangely but didn't say anything. He was old, he might've gotten dementia or something. Crazy old bat! Or was that actually possible? If he began considering...what, Ghostbur? as a reality, then maybe it was time to call it quits. "Either way, I don't...I don't want anyone other than you to come here. At least if it's just you, I can protect you if anything happens. You give me a call and I'm right over, but with Tommy...that kid is stubborn."

Phil chuckled with a nod and gently rubbed his back. "I'm sure you could convince him-"

"There's no convincing Tommy."

"Have you ever thought that you and he are just as stubborn as the other?"

He rolled his eyes but with a soft smile pasted across his face, finally picking up the bowl of eggs and putting them on a pan. "I only want you over. Nothing will ever change that."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

Once he was done, they both sat quietly at the table as Technoblade ate his eggs. In the middle of eating, he suddenly stretched his shoulders and Phil couldn't help but wonder exactly _when_ his son had gotten so muscular. It was like he just grew into it. One day, he was a scrawny little kid who read all day and the next, he was a man made of muscle. Wilbur certainly didn't take the same route; he'd always been around the size he was for most of his life. The smallest he'd ever seen him was when he killed him.

Phil closed his eyes to get the image out of his head. Instead of dwelling on it, he turned to Technoblade, who was nearly done with his eggs and nodding to music that was playing in his head. "Whatcha listening to?"

"I honestly don't know. Voices might have to start a band."

Phil chuckled at that. He was lucky Technoblade still had a sense of humour; it seemed like Tommy was forced to act professionally as was Tubbo, but the two were always naturally funny. That was the strangest part of it all; two of the funniest kids he'd ever known suddenly got put in positions that didn't fit them.

"Techno," Phil started, "don't you think it's strange?"

"What is?"

"Tubbo and Tommy's positions."

"I think it's strange no one's challenged them, but I've given up on L'Manberg. I'm retired, remember?"

Phil hummed and crossed his arms. "Yeah, I remember. It's just..." He sighed and shook his head. "I'm worried about them."

"I guess whenever you see fit, you'll protect their heads from being put on pikes, won't you?"

Phil gasped and shouted, "Techno!"

But he just laughed and got up to clean off his plate, a gentle smile on his face. "It's true- and it's hilarious." There was a pause in the conversation that made him glance at Phil and his "thinking 'bout shit" face, as Tommy would've put it. He thought about it and said, "If you wanted me to help, you wouldn't be ignored. I would help you."

His father smiled for a moment before dropping it again. "Well, I'm glad the thought is there."

Technoblade got his coat on and grabbed his journal and pencil, flipping to the page for the day. "We have to get turtles..."

"Here?" Phil looked through the window at the desolate, snowy wasteland that surrounded the house for miles. "Really?"

"No, of course not," Technoblade reassured him. Phil sighed in relief, but it quickly left him when he said, "We're gonna have them near water, of course. Oh, don't give me that face! We have to make a farm for them; they're gonna help me. Can't have it insanely far away. Think about the mileage on my body, Phil."

After a long day of building on Phil's part and hunting down turtles on Technoblade's, they both returned home and Phil helped him sort things. Technoblade treated his father to dinner and the two talked by the fire, but once they were done and the old man looked at the time, he stood up and walked to the door.

"Call me if you need me," Phil said.

"Likewise." Technoblade smiled and stopped him before he left. "Hey, Phil, um..." He rubbed the back of his neck and finally said, "Thank you for talking with me this morning. I'm glad I kept someone around who worries about me."

"Aw, mate-" He got cut off when Technoblade brought him into a hug. His son practically enveloped him and he didn't have to do much for it. With a soft laugh, he hugged him back to the best of his ability. "I'm glad I have such a good son."

Phil back away to the door when they were done and waved as he walked out of the house. The sky above was beautiful. Walking around the area was truly isolating, but it was worth it for the view. Nothing for miles around, but the sky didn't care. It hovered above him, barely lighting his way. He climbed over a hill and turned back to see Technoblade looking through his windows, watching him from far away. He waved again with a smile on his face and turned around to continue on. Past that point, he was unseen. That was as far as he could keep him safe.

And Dream knew that. That's why he was waiting for him on the other side, not too far away in a clearing.

Phil stopped in his tracks and took a sharp breath in through his nose, swallowing whatever amount of fear was clogging his throat.

"Hello, Phil."

He glared at him and raised his head to keep him from assuming he was frightened of him. "Hello."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just spoke to tommyinnit he said give me a god damn minute


	10. it's slipping through my fingers

Dream knocked on George's door early in the morning and waited patiently outside it. When he finally opened it a bit, Dream said, "Your cottage got burnt down."

He grimaced a bit but did his best not to show his hurt. "Really?"

"Yes."

George looked to the floor, already knowing how that happened. "And what are you going to do about that?"

"Punish who did it."

George and he locked eyes as he said that, Dream's filled with determination and George's filled with some strange concoction of emotions. He told him he knew what he meant, that he was scared, that he was at peace with it. Whatever was going to happen next, he trusted him, trusted him like a rabbit trusted a dog to chase it and finally kill it. Without thinking, George softly said, "I hope that goes well for you."

"It will," he promised.

That was in the morning. Now, Dream was standing high above L'Manberg, storm clouds still above him and pouring rain on him. Even in these conditions, he worked, refusing to stop for anyone. There was a goal here and he was going to reach it. He saw lights come on in the city below and for a moment, he paused to watch everyone run from the streets to their houses. The whole cabinet, including Tommy who had only recently shown up for some reason, was gathered in the caravan that had been restored in the centre of the town.

Suddenly, he was thrown back in time to the moment when he originally surrounded them. Sapnap and he had made TNT canons and tested one out together before the big part of the war. He remembered the two of them smacking their fists together out of excitement, knowing that something they had built actually _worked._ That was long before now. Wilbur had finally left the caravan after two hours of work and met Sapnap, George, and him at the entrance. L'Manberg had blown up before Wilbur; he just knew how to build it back up.

The country built on stilts was barely reminiscent of the L'Manberg he fought against so long ago. He swiped some water out of his face and adjusted his hood, looking on at the caravan. From this position, he could see himself shooting Tommy through the arm like he did back then.

Niki, soaked from the rain, watched from outside the caravan. Sometimes, he felt bad for the things that happened to her and her friends. She deserved more. She deserved a break; a time in her life that wasn't spent fighting. Even during the early days, it was a struggle for Niki to maintain the life she wanted to live. Dream knew it was his fault, that he'd caused the conflict or encouraged it in one form or another.

He finished the portion of the wall he was hoping to get to with a huff. Using his pickaxe, he safely scaled down the side of the wall and walked to the caravan.

The purpose of this act was to be as blatantly against Tommy as he possibly could be. He knew there was another way to do this, that is speaking with the administration to see if they could suspend his position as vice president or to put him on probation, but forgiveness and flexibility wasn't the point he was trying to make. The point was that he _wasn't_ a forgiving ruler, that _he_ had all the power and he would hold it over their heads liberally. He let his back straighten and those broad shoulders hold their positions as if they were men going into battle.

As he opened the door that hid the back of the caravan, the whole room seemed to spin towards him. All four men turned to stare at him as he trudged water onto the floor.

"Dream, we would like to speak to each other privately," Tubbo said.

"Well, I want to speak to Tommy."

Tommy's gaze intensified and he said, "You were with me at Pogtopia. You watched me burn down that forest- I know that you know where I was that whole time!"

Dream raised a brow and moved his mask out of his face, the confusion apparent then. "What?"

"When I was yelling in the ravine? When you brought me up to see the forest? When you took me home? You were there for all of that! Don't act like-"

"Tommy, what the hell are you talking about? Are you just lying to make yourself seem like you're in the clear? That's not going to work." He slung his backpack onto the table and pulled out a piece of folded parchment paper, something that looked torn out of a journal, and slammed it on the table. _"This_ is what he left behind when he burnt down his place. I knew he would lie to you because that's literally all he knows how to do."

Tubbo picked it up and read it, feeling Quackity and Fundy get behind him to read over his shoulders. Tommy looked between his friends- were they his friends at this point?- and Dream, the bastard. "I didn't write anything."

"Then what is this?!" Tubbo shoved the paper towards him, pressing it to the middle of his chest. "Read it! That's _your_ handwriting!"

Tommy looked down at the paper and read the words, chicken scratch, all caps, so clearly his yet so clearly untrue. How did they not realise it?! On the page with the mark of a blade at the top of it, it said:

_"DONT FUCK WITH BIG T!!!"_

Dream stabbed the tip of the blade used into the table and sure enough, it was the sword Tommy used on the tree not too long ago. Tommy's eyes were wide with panic but not because he did it; he didn't know. Instead of thinking about the next move, he stopped Tubbo from confirming that it was him who did any of this by yelling, "You're a fuckin' liar!" He punched Dream, failing to hurt him in the slightest. "You think burning down the cottage is bad? Just wait, bitch! You've fucked up now! I'll-"

Dream shoved him back into the table and watched Tommy fall to the ground without him having to try. It knocked the wind out of him and Tubbo jumped from being startled, clear from across the table that he was frightened by him. Tommy grabbed onto the table and tried to heave himself up, but Dream took care of that when he yanked him up by his collar and held him off the ground. His hands grabbed his wrists, trying to yank himself free, but Dream was much stronger than him.

"Tommy, I didn't fuck up. _You_ fucked up this time."

"I didn't fuck anything up!" Tommy clawed at his hands, turning towards Tubbo as best he could and looking at him, pleading with his eyes for him to help. Tubbo couldn't move.

"Stop fighting with me." Dream dropped him and watched as Tommy fell to the floor again, looking down at him from above. "I don't give a fuck about what you do to George. I don't give a fuck about what you do to Sapnap, not to this city, not to anything. What I _do_ care about is how much you lie to everyone around you just to get those discs. You lied to Wilbur, you lied to Tubbo, and you've started lying to me. Seriously? You thought pretending to be my friend would work?"

"D-Dream-"

"No, I'm not falling for it! Just yesterday, you walked up to me and you tried to bond with me as if you had any interest in who I am. You want your fucking discs? Too bad. I will get them, I will keep them, and I'll hide them away from you for the rest of your life." Tommy tried to stand, but Dream threatened to kick him and watched him cower in fear. "You think I'm stupid; I'm not stupid. Those discs? They're _mine."_

Tubbo carefully stepped towards them and said, "Dream, please step away from Tommy."

He stared at him but backed away, glare shifting to Tommy once again. He had nothing to say to him. "Tubbo," he said, "I need Tommy exiled."

"Wh-What?" Tommy looked around the room at the shocked faces that surrounded him. "No, that's not happening."

"If you don't exile him," Dream continued, "I'll come back every day and keep making that wall taller and taller until I can't go up anymore. I'll surround the area; no one will leave and no one will enter unless I allow them to. There won't be any trade from the outside to L'Manberg citizens. If you still want Tommy to stay, I will slaughter everyone inside the walls, you and Tommy included."

Tubbo gulped and nodded. "I-I...We..." Looking at Tommy, Quackity, and Fundy, he checked their eyes for any part of what they wanted to do, but everyone was still shocked by the scene that was made. "W-We'll have an answer tomorrow."

"You'll have an answer in the morning," Dream ordered. "If a decision isn't reached by then, I'll do what I have to do."

And with that, Dream turned and left the caravan, leaving the entire group silent. Tommy looked around and broke the silence with the question, "You're not going to really exile me, are you?"

They didn't have an answer.

"So?"

Dream was sat across from George, unsure of how to answer him. "So..." The words always left him. What was the best way to do this? _Was_ there a "best way" to do this? Well...no. No, there wasn't. "You're not king anymore."

George nodded a bit and messed with the sheets on his bed. "Alright."

"And after this moment, we will never speak again."

That made George pause. "Really?"

"Yes." Dream took his silence and his sudden stillness as defeat and frowned. "Listen, George, I know that you thought that we were friends and that this is really sudden, but...I-"

"These past few months have been hell." George gladly took off his crown and stood to face him for the first time in months. "This is the one good thing you've done for me. My short-lived kingship finally ending is the best news I've _ever_ gotten." George used one hand to mess with the clips on his robe, trying to take it off as he walked out of the room, leaving Dream behind. Dream stood and instinctually chased after him, grabbing his wrist. George's first thought was to yank away from him to keep himself safe. "What?!"

"G-George, are you sure you're glad?"

He stared at him incredulously, shaking his head as if he was doubtful he was even asking him that. "Yes. Absolutely."

"We were-"

"We're not anymore. You just said that." He managed to pull himself away from Dream, letting out a shaky breath through his mouth. "Dream, I don't know how you thought I would react to this news, but I'm here to let you know that this...this is it. If you want to take it back, it's too late. I'm taking this opportunity. This is the end of our story." He spun on his heel and finally let down his robes, leaving them on the floors of the castle. "I'm not finding Sapnap to relay this to him. You tell him yourself."

...As George, one of his best friends, calmly walked away, he stood in the middle of the hall, unsure of what to say.

Tommy's bones were practically rattling in his skin as he sat on his bed, facing the opposite way from Tubbo. Neither had said a word to the other since Dream yelled at him in the caravan. He simply curled himself into a ball. Almost all of the decision was placed on Tubbo, but instead of planning for anything, he also went to his bed across the room and curled into a ball. It made him feel...unsafe. How could he feel unsafe in a room with his best friend? Maybe it was because Tubbo just...wouldn't tell him what his fate was.

Finally, after an hour without speaking to each other, Tommy turned his head to look at Tubbo. He dropped his legs off the side of the bed and walked across the shadowy room towards him, reaching out with his right hand before his left hand grabbed himself and pulled him away. "Um, Tubbo?"

Tubbo didn't turn to acknowledge him and just kept staring at his sheets, his fingers getting tangled up in them.

"You won't exile me, will you? You wouldn't." Tommy smiled and sat beside him. "These discs are...history. I know you care about history."

"...I do."

"Yeah!" Tommy gently held his arm, looking at Tubbo's tear-stained face and frowning suddenly. "We can fight Dream. I know we can. Those discs hold _everything_ together. They're what made L'Manberg. I traded those discs to get here, remember?"

"But you can't just burn down people's houses or forests. I feel like this is less about the discs and more about Wilbur."

Tommy squinted at him and shook his head. "This has nothing to do with Wilbur."

Tubbo looked away, pulling his hand out of the sheets and wiping up his face. "We have six hours, Tommy."

"I don't have to be exiled."

"We have six hours," he repeated. "We have six hours until we go to war with Dream, or we lose you."

"Don't say 'we' when you're not the one stuck in a decision. I have no choice in the matter; it's all you. I either go or I stay and fight in a war I might die in." Tommy's expression took up a half-glare, though Tubbo understood why. They were all scared, but...maybe he felt some semblance of destiny when he knew he couldn't make a case for himself, that Tubbo nor Wilbur could protect him this time. Tubbo broke into sobs and hid his face in his hands. "Tubbo, please, don't cry..."

"I can't help it," he whimpered. "What am I supposed to do when you can't remember and I can't defend you? I want to keep you here, b-but I can't change the fact that the only person who was there to see you do any of this was Dream!"

"And he's a liar! He's a little bitch, and- We...We have all the time in the world if we wanted to make it that way."

"No," Tubbo said. "We don't. There's no such thing as 'all the time in the world.' We all have hidden expiration dates or due dates a-and this is one of those times where it's _clear_ we don't have all the time in the world to debate. If that were true, I would stall for as long as time went on. I would argue until someone dropped dead, Tommy."

"Then why don't you?"

"Because I can't. Because we _don't_ have all the time in the world." Tubbo looked at him and smiled with tears still streaming down his face. "I would if I could."

Tommy stared at him. Tubbo hoped he understood. He didn't.

So, Tommy let go of him and continued sitting beside him, staring at the floor with that blank look he always wore nowadays. Tubbo hadn't seen him excited in a long time. He hadn't seen him smile without a twinge of sadness in his eyes, hadn't seen them sparkle like they used to. Part of him was gone. That's at least how he saw it. His best friend was missing and he missed him. God, he missed Tommy. He missed the way he would laugh when someone, or even himself, did something funny. That breathless cackle.

"Do you think I can save you?" Tubbo looked at Tommy, their gazes locking together.

Tommy stared for a moment and his face finally gave away the pain he was feeling for just a split second before he shook his head. "I don't think anyone can save me. I think we can try."

"But you'll still end up-"

"Dead," he finished. "I'll still end up dead."

Tubbo knew what his fate was. It was decided the moment Tommy burnt down George's cottage. No, it was decided the day the disc war started. There was no other choice. Friends and citizens of L'Manberg flashed through his mind, their faces so much happier than they were before during all the wars he'd seen them. Niki was so much happier and they had Wilbur and Phil now. No one was fighting. Everyone was doing great- except for Tommy.

Tubbo stared into his lap and knew he had made the decision before Tommy tried convincing him against it. He closed his eyes, knowing there was no feasible way to keep Tommy out of exile, knowing that Dream would put his head on a pike if he had the chance, knowing how dreadful this situation really was. He didn't have a choice and it was foolish to think there was one.

"I won't let you go," Tubbo said. "I won't let anyone exile you."

Tommy's eyes lit up and a smile stretched across his face. "I knew you never would, Tubbo!" He wrapped him in a firm hug and squeezed him to his chest, gently shaking him as he did so. Tubbo smiled but didn't hug him back, letting his shoulders and arms get trapped in his grasp.

He let him lie to him like it was nothing. "Because we're best friends," he said softly.

"Of course!" Tommy let him go with a bright smile still on his face. "We'll always be best friends, Tubbo."

"Yeah," he lied. "I know we will."

It took everything in him to keep himself from crying again.

Dream wasn't sure how he got here, but he was standing in the heavy rain parallel to Sapnap. They were both drenched, but Sapnap was the one who was shivering where he stood. As they stared at each other, both men felt a growing distance. Sapnap decided to come closer and greet him with a soft, "Hi."

"Hey," Dream replied.

"I haven't seen you in a while."

"I haven't seen _you_ either."

He nodded and chuckled, looking around at the forest. "Mind taking me to the castle? Or is that off-limits?"

"Definitely not off-limits," he said.

"And are you just going to echo me or are we going to talk?" He laughed and started to wrap him up in a hug, but Dream walked away before he could. "Dream?"

"Sorry, just...kind of out of it," he admitted.

Sapnap frowned and followed behind Dream. Coming out of the forest was like entering a bucket of water, that was how bad it was raining. Quickly catching up with him, he nearly pressed against his side just to get warm. He didn't react too much with it, refusing to take off his mask even though they were alone. As he glanced off at the distant sky, wiping the rainwater out of his eyes, Sapnap watched as the stars above twinkled, yet it seemed less like they were twinkling and more like they were burning out.

It didn't feel like today. It felt like he was stuck between yesterday and tomorrow.

Why was this such a defining moment? It was just Dream and him walking to the castle together, and then they would talk once they were both in the castle and able to dry off. "God, it's freezing out here," he complained.

"Yeah," Dream replied.

They entered the castle without much trouble and Dream walked to the closet, fetching him a towel that he could wrap himself in. "Where's George?" Sapnap looked up at Dream as he wrapped the fluffy towel around his shoulders. The fabric ruffled against his ears, making him chuckle.

"He's probably in his room, sleeping. We should sit by the fireplace over in the main room."

They sat together in front of the fire for a little bit, long enough for Sapnap to stop shivering and actually get warm in front of the fire. Dream just let the water drip off his clothes and hair, staring into the flames. Sapnap just...couldn't read him. It was weird; normally, they were so synced together, feeling the same way about whatever was happening. Now, he couldn't even tell what he was thinking or if he was thinking anything. It made him uneasy, nauseous even. Why?

"Dream," he started, "can we get George down here?"

"No, he doesn't like it when I wake him up early." Dream didn't turn to face him when he spoke, just watching as the embers flew from the inside of the fireplace to the stone floors.

...

"The castle's nice," he said absentmindedly.

"Yeah, it is. George hasn't liked it much." Dream grabbed a loop of keys off his side and let them jingle in his hands, fiddling with them and letting the keys clang against one another. "It's a really nice place. I don't know why he doesn't like it."

...

Sapnap slowly fell onto his back, placing his hands behind his head, and stared at the ceiling, studying the paintings of clouds and flowers above him. It was like he was in a field in the middle of the day- if a day was as gloomy as this. He thought it would be better if the ceiling was painted with stars and flowers than a bright blue sky. Art was never his thing and he didn't remember the castle being painted like this while Eret was around. This was George's doing, for sure. Always was one to like art, even if he couldn't see all the colours.

...

Suddenly, he asked Dream, "Remember when we would have sleepovers?"

"I do."

"...Remember when we would invite George over?"

"I do."

"And how we would put on a movie?"

"Immediately after playing games."

That made him smile, and it came out in his voice. "And George would always fall asleep the instant it came on."

"And we'd make fun of him all night. He'd wake up sometimes."

"He would."

"And he'd be upset, but he'd fall asleep in a few minutes again."

He chuckled and hummed to himself as he closed his eyes, the memories coming back to him. "...Dream?"

"Yes, Sapnap?"

"Can we do that again?"

"...No. No, I don't think so."

He opened his eyes again as reality came back to him. "Why not?"

"Because we're not friends. Friends do that kind of stuff; we're not friends."

"We're not friends?"

"No."

Sapnap turned his gaze from the ceiling to Dream and frowned a bit. There was yet another bout of silence before he asked, "So, this is it? We don't have a huge falling out. We don't scream. We don't fight. You just...admit that we're not friends anymore. That it's over."

"I figured it was obvious from the start."

"Start of what?"

"Everything. The start of it all."

"Are you saying you never thought we were friends?"

"No, I never thought we were friends."

"Never?"

"Never."

He looked back up at the ceiling and sighed. "We were never friends."

Sapnap remembered the times Dream and he leaned into each other because they were laughing so hard, the moments they'd said the same thing at the same time, chases through the forest and training together and arm wrestling and curling up and watching movies and comfy clothes and the fights Dream would have to break up. He remembered moments when Dream would confide in him and they would have deep talks while looking at the stars.

"Never."

And somehow, none of that mattered.

"Even after all we've been through?"

"I think especially after everything we've been through." He stared down at the floor and hummed in thought as he pulled on his fingers. "We've been through a lot, you and I. I've appreciated every moment, but I never thought of you as a friend. Not even in the thick of it."

Sapnap sat up and stared ahead at nothing. They were never friends. Never. It was all a lie. Somehow, it didn't feel real. It didn't feel like the roles in this conversation were right. Dream was always the one who was so close and open, ready to take on the world for Sapnap. Somehow, something changed. Dream was the one who held him to the ground when the ground kept shifting, and Sapnap always kept him safe because they were best friends.

"Was it something I did?"

"No," Dream answered, but he never gave him any reason why that was his answer. Neither man moved as they stared into the fire.

"Is this...everyone? George and me? Or is it just me?"

"It's everyone."

Maybe the problem was that the ground shifted so much that it finally split. Maybe Dream didn't like holding him to the ground.

He held his head in his rough palms, letting the tears mix with the leftover rain on his face. He sat like that for a few minutes, his body trembling from the cold and the anger building inside of him because, if he was honest, he felt angry. It was a mix of sadness and rage and betrayal. After all this time, he found out that Dream was never his friend and he was just supposed to accept that. All the time they spent together was for nothing. A good portion of his life was gone and with it, part of who he was. They were brothers, forged from separate materials.

"You've destroyed me."

"I know. I don't care."

"Who am I without you?"

"You're Sapnap," he said. "I'm Dream. You're Sapnap. George is George. We were never a team; we were just individuals. From the start, we've just been individuals."

"I never saw it that way."

"Maybe you should start trying to see it that way."

Sapnap hated it here. He hated the warm fire and the extravagant art on the ceiling. He hated this castle. He hated himself and how he would sob in front of Dream. The stupid sounds that would come out of his throat when he cried. The words. The thoughts.

Sapnap slowly stood up and walked to the door without another word, never turning back. He walked down the shiny hall and back to the entrance, keeping his face pointed at the ground. Dream slowly turned and watched as he left, his back never leaving his sights. The door opened and, without a second of debate, Sapnap shut the door behind him. It only took a soft click for him to disappear behind the door and leave in the thunderstorm.

A noise- something like terror and hurt, pain mixed with horrible, bone-chilling fear- escaped his mouth and he took off his mask that hid his hurt expression. How he kept it together in front of him, he didn't know. Dream couldn't describe the adrenaline that was running through him. He crumbled to the ground like a puppet being freed of its strings and sobbed into the cold, stone floor. His ugly sobs echoed through the castle even when he pressed his mouth into his arm, his breath burning his forearm.

He could try to tell himself that this was for the best, but it didn't change how badly his insides were eating away at him. It didn't change what he just said. It didn't change that Sapnap didn't know the truth. Dream realised that he caused the pain he was trying to prevent. There were still threads and ties that needed to be cut before it was too late, but he knew he was just making it worse. This wasn't easy. This hurt everyone.

 _"I'm so fucking stupid,"_ he whimpered into the floor, knowing that this didn't end with him cowering into the floor. He had no control over when it ended- when the pain stopped. He threw the ring of keys across the room and heard them beat against the wall harshly as he screamed. Soon, there would be nothing left of him and the realisation was terrifying, yet the thought of eventual power consumed him. Giving up everything was worth it.

Weakly, he stood up and walked down the hall, his hand reaching out to the wall to keep him steady. Just four more hours, right? Four or five. That was all the time he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im eating rice with beef stew right now, i was planning on putting an egg in but i don't think egg goes well with beef stew so now its just rice and beef stew and sriracha because thats fuckin amazing might go wild and put some creole on this shit just because i feel like it  
> also next chapter will definitely be a little intense at the beginning but i will stop making these huge chapters in a little bit. i just wanted to shove a lot of stuff in these last few chapters, it felt necessary 
> 
> twitter: @bye_bye_firefly


	11. Chapter 11

"So, what's the plan?"

Tubbo looked at Quackity, but couldn't find it in him to tell him in front of Tommy that the plan was to exile him. Something was holding his tongue, something that plugged his throat. Tommy answered before he could, excitable despite the circumstances. "We're keeping me around. We discussed it last night."

Fundy raised a brow at that and asked, "Why did you discuss it without us?"

"Well, it's Tubbo's decision, innit?"

Quackity said, "It's _our_ decision. He decides _with_ us. That's the reason we're here and I believe last night, Dream threatened us. No, he's _been_ threatening us."

Tommy glared and said, "We can take him. If he decides today is the day he starts a war with us again, we'll just..." And without thinking, he blurted out, "We'll get Technoblade to team with us!"

Quackity blinked at him, knowing that was a dangerously stupid idea, but then he figured whatever Tommy said, Tubbo agreed with. If he thought this was a good idea- it wasn't- then this was a great time to side with Tommy. All that went through his head at the moment was the idea of the kid being put into a position where he was easy to paint in a negative light, easy to take down, _easy._

He suddenly realised what he was thinking and squeezed his eyes shut. "Tommy, that's a stupid idea." Fundy immediately backed him up, but he didn't bother to pay attention to the words he said. In fact, he didn't engage in the argument and let Tommy and Fundy battle it out. He glanced at Tubbo and saw his pondering expression, turning away immediately. He _had_ to stop thinking about Tubbo like he was something to destroy. The kid was just...just a kid. They were both kids.

His brows furrowed at the thought. Tommy and Tubbo were best friends. They were little kids standing up for each other. Why the fuck was Dream targeting kids?

Tubbo looked off to the side as Tommy and Fundy both yelled at each other, letting them argue without an idea of how to interject. Instead, his gaze turned to the window as the sun slowly rose above the hills. The oranges and pinks all mixed, wispy and cloudy- and fading fast. He looked down at the floor and bit at his lower lip, trying to decide what the best course of action was despite his decision already being made. 

"I know what I'm talking about!"

"Oh, you don't know anything!" Fundy yelled back.

"He's my brother! I know he'll be on my side-"

"But will he be on _our_ side? And when we do something he doesn't agree with, like _act as a governing body,_ what happens then? Tommy, it doesn't matter if he likes you; he doesn't like us."

Tubbo walked over and said, "Enough fighting. The sun is almost over the hill. Let's go."

Fundy looked at him incredulously and said, "We can't go yet. We haven't talked about this. We _have_ to figure this out!"

"No, it's fine." He opened the door and looked back to find Tommy following him and Fundy barely trailing behind. Quackity held his gaze to the floor before huffing and finally following them to the door. Fundy's brows furrowed and he shook his head, his eyes showing his confusion clearly. Tubbo simply answered his stare with, "I know what to do. Please, we don't have time left."

The hardest thing to come to terms with was the fact that they really didn't have time left. He could've fought with him all day long, but what was the point? He let his hands turn to fists and followed the rest of the group out.

The area behind the wall was shrouded with darkness. It was almost surreal to see the walls; it reminded Tubbo and Tommy of the old L'Manberg, back before...everything, pretty much. When Wilbur was still alive and they still had time to talk to Niki. That was probably what Tubbo missed the most; he wanted to talk to Niki all the time, but he never found the right moment or the right topic. He wondered if Tommy felt the same way as him. It was probably better to wonder if Niki wanted to talk to him, too.

Standing at the wall's entrance, Dream leaned against the black obsidian with his arms folded against his chest. When the group approached him, he looked up and pushed himself off the wall, standing up straight. Tubbo couldn't tell what he was thinking behind that mask if he was thinking anything at all and that was the worst part of talking to Dream. There wasn't a moment where he believed he was safe or in danger, convincing him or digging a deeper hole, winning or losing.

He recognized that this was it for them. This friendship he'd cherished since the beginning was about to fall apart with one decision. He thought of it as if it was a trolley problem; he was holding the lever that switched the tracks and on one side, there was L'Manberg and all the people who lived there. On the other, Tommy. It was his thinking that one man wasn't worth more than the many he promised to care for. That didn't mean the decision was easier to make, though. No, he anguished over it all night because he knew it was the only option.

L'Manberg, or Tommy? The answer was always L'Manberg, especially when war was on the horizon.

Tommy suddenly grabbed his hand and whispered, "Tubbo?"

Tubbo looked at him and winced when he saw his frightened face. "What is it?"

"You'll save me, won't you?"

No. "I...I'll try."

Maybe this decision was saving him. Maybe telling Tommy to go into exile was the proper decision for everyone. L'Manberg was safe, Tommy wouldn't die, and Dream would be happy with him. This was saving something.

Tommy didn't let go of his hand as they walked towards Dream, only letting go when Tubbo had to approach him.

He grabbed his axe and shield and met their gazes behind his mask. "So?"

Tubbo took a deep breath and explained, "Dream, we have discussed our options and I would like to make one thing clear: you did not influence my decision at all. The choice I've made has been made with careful consideration. If I don't do this, then something will happen that I do not want to happen; something you didn't describe."

Dream nodded understandingly and said, "I trust your judgement, Tubbo. You're very competent and I'll back you up every step of the way." He put his axe away and came closer. "What was your decision?"

Tubbo glanced back at Tommy and realised that even though he was scared just a few seconds ago, he was still smiling. Just one good memory; that was all he needed. Those sparkling eyes and that cheerful smile that he rarely got to see nowadays. Yes, he believed with his whole heart that he was going to stay somehow. He trusted him to tell Dream to piss off and thought that would be the last of it. He believed him. That was the worst part of it.

"Tommy, I-I...I'm so, so sorry. Tommy, I really am. I-I...Dream." He turned back towards Dream and said, "I have chosen to exile Tommy."

Tommy's face dropped. The same crushing feeling when he was with Wilbur in the rain came to him then. Nothing seemed real. "What...?"

Tubbo turned with tears in his eyes and asked, "Why would you trust me?"

"T-Tubbo, I...I thought you would keep me here."

"I can't. I can't, I'm sorry, I can't."

"You said-!"

"I know what I said!"

Quackity squeezed his eyes shut before finally opening them and coming forward. "This is Dream's fault! He should pay for that! We don't have to throw people out of the cabinet!"

Tubbo's eyes widened and, at a loss for words, shouted, "Y-You-!"

Fundy piped up and said, "This is so wrong."

"Tubbo," Tommy pleaded, "we can't just bow at his feet! It gives him more power; I helped make this country!"

"You can't do this! It's wrong!"

"You _lied_ to me!"

Tubbo yelled, "There is more than just us!" The group went silent and he said, "There is more than just you and me and fucking Tommy! There are people with livelihoods and kids and dreams and they've only been at peace for, what, a few months? It's unfair to them for us to start shit with the most powerful man in the area- for all we know, the world- all because Tommy can't remember if he lit George's cottage on fire! Either take the punishment or go to war; it's your choice!"

Tommy grabbed his shoulders firmly, not letting go when Tubbo tried to squirm out of them. "I need you on my side- Tubbo, I need _you!"_

"I can't help you," he said plainly as he fought with the tears forming in his eyes. "I can't fix your memory. I can't fix your trauma. You amaze and infuriate me with what you choose to do, Tommy, but please, don't hold it against yourself. You've left me with no choice."

Tommy's fearful look turned into rage. He shoved him back as all the emotions finally came out of him like a volcano. _"I hate you!"_

He gasped and shouted, "I'm doing this for us!"

"I told you from the beginning: it's been you and me versus Dream over those discs! You're doing this for yourself! They were right, they were all right; you really _are_ like Schlatt!"

For a moment, shock took over his face. Hearing the words come out of Tommy's mouth was pure torture and they bounced around his head. Was he right? Was everyone right when they told him he was just like Schlatt? Hurt and shock took over him and he wanted to break down and cry right there, but Dream was right behind him and the country he was trying to save was slowly lighting up. He let that turn into cold frustration.

"I--am not--Schlatt."

"You are!"

All that hurt turned cold because he knew better. He could play like that, too. "If I'm Schlatt, then you're Wilbur."

Tommy's hands balled into fists as he remembered everything that was Pogtopia and Manberg, including all the time he spent away from Tubbo and hoping, _praying,_ that he was okay. It hurt to know that all of his worrying, all the things he went through, the cold nights and the days he had to starve, led to this moment. What a waste. "You're a horrible person!"

"I am!"

"I can't believe we were friends once!"

"Me neither!"

"I wouldn't do this to you! If I were in your shoes, I would never even think that this was a possibility!"

"You're the one who made it impossible to keep you here!"

"I don't care! I still wouldn't do this to you!"

"The only reason you wouldn't do this to me is because I wouldn't put myself in this position in the first place. Instead of bottling everything up, I would talk to people- I would talk to _you!_ I wouldn't hurt everyone and everything in sight! If you can't do the simplest things like stay out of trouble or just _fucking listen,_ then it comes down to this!"

He scoffed. "So, this is it?"

"You _made_ this it! It's your fault! Stop saying it like I'm making it this way!"

"Fuck you!"

"Fuck you, too!"

"I fucking hate this country and those discs and the people here and Quackity and Fundy and-and fucking- _YOU!"_

"I'm glad we feel the same way!" Tubbo twisted around to Dream again and growled, "Dream, escort Tommy out of my country."

Dream nodded and walked past him, Tubbo never bothering to turn around to watch Tommy get taken by the wrist and pulled away from the crowd. When Tommy walked past him and he saw that little bit of red cloth that identified him, he jerked his head away and stared at the obsidian wall. Only Quackity and Fundy, who stood behind him, watched as he cried.

Tommy struggled against Dream the whole time, practically being dragged out of L'Manberg like a child who didn't get their way in a store. He shouted up at Dream, "I fucking hate you, too!" He didn't have anything to say back, mostly because he was focused on getting him out of the country first and foremost.

"Tommy, we're going to the docks. I have a place already picked for you that you can stay at in exile."

"I'm not fuckin' going!"

"I'll force you into the boat if I have to," he said. 

But Tommy didn't believe him and starting punching his arm to get him to let go, screaming and yelling incoherently at him. He only stopped when Dream twisted his arm so hard that he yelped and nearly fell to his knees. When they finally got to the docks, Wilbur was sat on the edge with a fishing rod in hand, his hazy eyes looking out over the water. Tommy yelled, "Wilbur, help me!" Once he turned around, he saw the two and waved, smiling at them with that dumb look on his face.

"Hi, Wilbur," Dream greeted quietly, his grip getting loose on Tommy for a moment before he started struggling. For some reason, each time Tommy struggled against him, he became more aware. It was like each moment Tommy spent still was a moment Dream let down his guard. It was strange to see, but he was already coming up with a plan to finally get out of his grasp.

"Hi, Dream!" Wilbur quickly stood up, letting the fishing rod drop from his hands into the sea, seeing Tommy in his grasp and immediately freezing. "What's going on here?"

"Just taking Tommy someplace." Dream dragged him to the boat and put him in it, looking out over the horizon. "Goddammit, does it ever stop raining?"

Wilbur looked where he was looking and saw the dark clouds slowly floating their way past the hills in the distance, making him hum softly. "It's what we get for living near water."

Dream got in the boat but stood still for a moment to look at Wilbur from just below the lip of the dock. "Are you coming?"

Wilbur blinked a few times and asked, "Where are you going?"

"Away," he answered simply. "I have a rough idea of where we're going."

The way Tommy looked at him made him frown softly. He ran to the edge of the dock where he was fishing, picked up his leather satchel bag, and got into the boat. Once he sat comfortably beside Tommy, only slightly going through him and chilling his side, he looked around and let Dream get to rowing. "So, why is Tommy going there?"

"Because Tubbo's a bitch- no, _everyone's_ a bitch." Tommy growled and wiped his hands over his face before exploding and rocking the boat as he yelled, "I fuckin' hate you! I hate you, Dream!"

"You keep saying that, but you'll get over yourself soon. We'll be friends, Tommy."

Wilbur nodded and said, "Dream seems like a sweet person." Though he said it and thought he was genuine, his face twitched and his ear rang, almost like his body was punishing him for saying something like that. Surely, he knew better than to tell that to Tommy. "I'm sure he means well."

"Means well, my ass," he muttered. "I'll fuckin' kill him before I become friends with him."

Dream chuckled at the empty threat and continued rowing. "You can complain all you want," he said, "but that won't change anything."

Wilbur watched as the fish swam under the boat, his fingers absentmindedly tapping his thighs while Tommy stewed where he sat.

No one said another word for the next hour or so when they hit a sandy beach. Dream forced Tommy out of the boat and without a single word, led him onto the island and took out his shovel. Tommy stood nearby and watched with a fierce stare as he dug a small hole and filled it with bramble, letting Wilbur stand by his side. "What's he doing?"

Tommy didn't answer, mostly because he didn't know. When Dream was done, he lit the bramble and ordered, "Throw everything into the fire."

He grumbled a soft, "No."

"No?"

"I'm not doing that."

He took out his axe and grabbed him by the wrist, refusing to let go even when he fought against him. His punches were hitting and he was putting in all that he had, but it was futile because eventually, Dream wrangled the pack off his back and tossed it into the flames, following that with his sword and sheath. Wilbur watched as it burned, frowning and letting his shoulders sag a bit. Ash flew into the air and filled the sky, but that wasn't enough for Dream; he lit the end of a stick of dynamite and tossed it into the pile, quickly backing up before it blew up in his face.

Tommy realised what he'd done and tried to salvage his pack, but Wilbur jumped into action and yanked him back by his shirt.

That made Dream's face twist. Wilbur wasn't supposed to do that, was he?

Tommy screamed as his pack of things turned into dust, ash, and smoke, quickly clawing his way back to see if anything was left. Gunpowder dotted his hair and got into his pores and soon enough, dirt and soot were gathering under his fingernails as he grabbed at what remained of his pack.

"Nothing's there."

"Shut up."

Dream rolled his eyes under his mask and shrugged, looking around at the plains he'd just dropped him off in. "Well," he said, "this is where you'll be staying. Tommy, if you leave and go so far that I can't see you from the beach, you're dead. I'll hunt you down and kill you. If you try to make a boat so you can get off the island, you're dead. If you go to the Nether and try to go through the main portal, you're dead."

Tommy's face scrunched up and he punched the mound in front of him, quickly standing and watching as Dream left the island. "I fucking hate you!"

Dream laughed and waved goodbye. Wilbur came to Tommy's side and they watched Dream push his boat into the water, get in, and row away.

Wilbur hummed softly and nodded. "Well, it's not all bad!"

Tommy glared at him and stomped away, finding a tree and sitting under it with his arms crossed over his chest. Maybe it wasn't yet "all bad," but Wilbur had a feeling Tommy was going to make it all bad. All that was left to do was make a place to stay, which they would probably need soon considering the recent weather. Wilbur hadn't been able to leave the shade for such a long time because of the rain! It sucked! Like, a lot!

Still, Tommy had to be reasoned with. Wilbur walked towards him and took a seat beside him under the tree, curling his legs up to rest his chin on his knees. Tommy didn't turn to look at him, letting an angry huff out of his nose instead. The way he was sitting made Wilbur think he just wanted to take up all the room with his legs like he didn't want anyone there at all. He sighed and asked, "Tommy, what's wrong?"

It took a little bit, but Tommy finally answered, "Everything."

"Let's start with what has got you mad right now."

"Everything."

Wilbur thought for a moment and asked, "Can you start with the immediate everything? Break it down for me."

"You."

It hurt a bit to hear, but Wilbur didn't want to just leave him hanging and pushed on. It felt fuzzy, but he quickly looked around and remembered he was on the beach with Tommy and was just trying to understand what was wrong. He had to remind himself that he was doing this for him and that he couldn't afford to be selfish. He couldn't just leave this as it was. "Why me?"

"Because..." He sighed and asked, "Wilbur, why did you do what you did?"

Wilbur had no clue what he was referring to. "Did what? What did I do?"

Tommy's face scrunched up as he remembered. "You told me I would never be president. You told me that you were going to blow up L'Manberg, and when I convinced you not to do it, you lied when you said you wouldn't."

"When was that?"

It then clicked to Tommy that he didn't remember anything from that time. "You don't remember Pogtopia?"

Wilbur looked down and crossed his legs, staring into his lap. "I...really don't remember a lot, Tommy!" He laughed, but his realisation made it sound empty. "It's really hard to have this conversation because my brain _really_ wants me to forget this even happened. It makes me upset."

Tommy chuckled and nodded. "I mean...I would want to forget, too. I want to forget about Pogtopia."

"What's Pogtopia? Why do you want to forget it?"

"Everything during that time, everything that happened there, outside of there- everything about it..." Tommy put his head in his hands and sighed. "It hurts to think about."

Wilbur frowned, but he was starting to find it easier to stay focused and alert. "Could you tell me what I was like?"

Tommy grimaced at the memories and said, "At first, you were just sad. I remember there was a point in time where you spent five days in a room and I would come in to try to get you to talk, but you never would. I'd give you baked potatoes because that was all we had and come back later to see if you'd eaten yet. Most of the time, you hadn't. I tried to get you to come out and help with the building that Technoblade and I were doing, and you would never do anything."

"I'm so sorry, Tommy. I don't remember doing any of this, but...I can't imagine what kind of pressure was on your shoulders."

"Yeah, well, it didn't help when the depression stopped and you got angry," he snapped. "And when that anger turned onto me, yeah, pressure was on my shoulders. You wouldn't plan, you wouldn't help, but you _sure as hell_ would tell me I was worthless at the end of the day. Technoblade was about to shoot Tubbo in front of a crowd and the whole time, you were arguing with me over what a stupid decision it would be if I jumped in to save him. We didn't have any food despite the potatoes Technoblade tried to grow."

"T-Tommy-"

But there was no hesitance in his voice as he spewed venomous words towards him. "We were starving! Our operation was barely working and all you wanted to do was destroy, destroy, destroy. When Quackity joined our group, we were saved, but not from you. Whatever you were, you were better dead than alive. The constant threat of being blown up by my own brother was too much. I know that I would think I was suffocating down there and I know that I thought I was going to die. I was drowning. You were holding my head under the water and telling me it was my fault."

Wilbur's eyes stared across at the ocean waves that lapped up grains of sand. There weren't any words he could say that could fix what he'd done. He knew that. Tommy must've known that he wasn't the same man he grew up with. He must've known that he wasn't the man that made L'Manberg nor was he the man who threatened to destroy it. He certainly wasn't the man who forced his father to kill him. He buried his face in his hands and shook his head. This body was rotten.

Tommy sniffled and whimpered as tears came to his eyes. "But I have no one to blame but myself, do I?"

"No, Tommy-"

"I'm so angry. I'm so... _fuckin' angry._ Technoblade...was the traitor this whole time. I was the one who called him here. He spawned the withers and started killing people and you knew that it was getting worse. You blew it up to stop him or to prove a point. You can't fight and you couldn't use your words at that point. You blew it up and lied when you said you didn't plan on going down with L'Manberg. You lied a lot. I lied, too, didn't I?" Tommy stared into his lap and sobbed. "I lied to Tubbo. I lied to him so many times."

Wilbur watched as he cried and cried until the words he said didn't make any sense. Eventually, his words turned into nothing but sounds. He didn't speak and instead sobbed. He reached towards him.

Cold hands went through Tommy's torso and he knew exactly why. Wilbur couldn't help. He was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive been super into the song imposter syndrome by sidney gish, i do believe its my favourite currently. i listened to it while writing this chapter and i feel like im about to do the same for the next chapter. maybe its influence will be caught in the next chapter idk i feel like the music i listen to influences how i write

**Author's Note:**

> WE IGNORE THE FACT THAT I FORGOT THE DESCRIPTION AND NOTES THE FIRST TIME AROUND...
> 
> n e way, thank you for reading this!! im really glad if you read it all because ive been working really hard on it ;;; if you have anything to comment, be it a simple "this is really good" or a "KLASDJKGJLKAG" thats fine!! i wanna hear it!! tell me!!! i dont bite <3


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